Looming Truths
by Asunder Wolf
Summary: The end of the Hazakurain case was only the beginning of a very complex mixture of secret desires and forbidden spaces. Overcoming things never had been an easy task. Neither for Wright nor Edgeworth. [Fill based fic, with slight canon variations, starting after the ending of T&T, passing through AAI 1&2, Apollo Justice, Dual Destinies and beyond.] [It's better to follow it in AO3]
1. Chapter 1

[Fill based fic, with slight canon variations, starting after the ending of T&T, passing through AAI 1&2, Apollo Justice, Dual Destinies and beyond. This fic is also my personal desire about what I would like to see in a future AA6]

My deep thanks to Mindy, who is the brave person that helps me not only in beta-reading the fic or looking for grammar errors but also in suggesting many inflections and ways to speak in order to look more natural in the dialogues. Everyone should be thankful with her. Without her, this fic wouldn't be published.

Warnings just in case you didn't read before:  
*This fic is a massive spoiler of any Ace Attorney game, even AAI 1 and 2. Keep it in mind.  
*This fic is placed in Japan because I deeply detest the mess Capcom made with its nonsensical and useless localization. Unfortunately, the western names will be kept, because I've been told it could be hard to understand Odoroki as Apollo, and so on. But I had been very close to do so. Just keep in mind the real place, please. That's what matters the most.  
*It's highly suggested to know about the following main chars that appear in AAI: Kay Faraday, Shi-Long Lang, Tateyuki Shigaraki. In minor detail: Hakari Mikagami, Shih-na, Tyrell Badd.

Trigger Warnings: suicide, death, slight allusion of torture, low level of violence [nobody who already knows Franziska could consider this fic violent, to tell the truth, hehe], drunkenness, slight explicit sex [if you are *only* looking for seven pages of detailed sex descriptions, then, this is not your fic; however, it has sex and mature content, just not full of descriptions about how A should be inserted in B XD], erotic scenes, German with google [get over it, people, I don't know how to speak like the fop, haha], Middle old English by a non-English speaker [disaster! Blame Simon].

* * *

He glanced at the watch after shutting off the car engine. One o'clock, thirty two minutes, fifty-six seconds.

He went out of the car and let out a huge sigh. A deep, long sigh, born neither from the marathon he had been experiencing during the whole case, nor from the frustration caused by his recent scepticism being tested by a stupid stone. It was not a relief at all, either. It was only a sigh, being released after ten years of self restrain.

He walked into the building and looked at the elevator for several seconds. Maybe another day he could test his own strength of character, like he had started doing in the past year.

_Face what you fear_.

He was a grown man after all. He felt ashamed for not being able to deal with the problem. However, in that moment, the tiredness stopped him to continue with the challenge. At least, not today. Or perhaps he did not want to test himself any more. Perhaps those tests were a way to prove how much weakness remained in his soul. The irritating, long-lasting, dark and unstoppable _weakness._

_Ngh._

He went upstairs several floors to reach his apartment: a whole floor only for him. He took out his magnetic card from his coat inner pocket and typed the password on the small keyboard besides the door.

Finally, he had come home: his shelter, cold and dark as usual. The sound of quick paws over the parquet floor softened his mood immediately. His black and tan Shiba Inu ran into him. Her white cravat-collar made the running even more dramatic, with the ruffles fluttering in the air. In the penumbra, he cracked a smile to his beloved pet.

"Have you been missing me, my Lady?". He knelt, and Pesu jumped to her master's neck with her spotless paws. She licked Edgeworth's cheek and bit softly the bridge of his nose, provoking a spontaneous and genuine laugh in the tired man.

In the middle of the sudden joy, Edgeworth surrounded the dog, hugging her in a gesture that restrained his frustration. His smile withered in an unperceived tremble as he buried his face in Pesu's fur. Immediately, the dog changed her mood, stopped her frantic wagging tail and remained quiet in the hug, licking his neck or part of his cheek from time to time. But the suffocated lump in his throat forced him to return to reality, and set Pesu free from his caring hug. The dog just sat down in front of him and looked in silence, while Edgeworth was rubbing his eyes for the second or third time.

"Do not worry. I can control it."

He stood up and lighted the lamps up, bringing a faint light in the whole living room. He left his jacket over the sofa and walked to the bathroom. What he needed was an invigorating shower.

Pesu jumped onto the sofa and waited until the sound of the water finished.

At that moment, she looked at her master coming from the door, she started to turn around in the same spot, wagging her tail. She knew about the sacred ritual. Every night, her master spent an hour watching the television, sharing the physical contact that both of them needed, while enjoying the story about a man made of steel.

Edgeworth smiled a bit at her.

"I should apologize, it was five hours ago. Unbelievable the inaccurate biological clock you have."

The dog put her ears down and made a low whimper.

"Tsk tsk tsk tsk ". Edgeworth shook his head slowly. "we should get some rest".

The dog followed him into the bedroom and waited by the door, observing the whole pre-bed ritual Edgeworth used to do: drying his hair, brushing it, using some cosmetic lotions on his hands and feet, rotating his head while his neck made hollow sounds, and using his precious perfume _Joop!_ over his neck and upper torso. Just a few light sprays in order to avoid an undesirable and intense effect. The warm spicy, yet sweet, scent of the perfume softened his mood and made him feel a bit less tired. When he was done, he turned off the light in the room and went inside his cold bed. He only had to wait a minute to feel Pesu's weight close to his feet.

_Tomorrow will be another day_.

The morning had come faster than he expected. Four hours was all he had slept after such stressed case. At least now things would return to its own, old flow.

He stood up from the desk, and walked to the electric heater, put water into it and waited for it boil while looking through the window. People outside was walking peacefully, some of them sharing smiles, others running in a rush, many students were making exaggerated movements. Each of them with their personal stories, each of them had strong bonds with others. What could be the story behind that girl looking at her friend in such quiet and shy gesture?. What would be the main life goal of that man rushing along the streets?. And what about the old one, there, waiting in the store entrance? Could he have a family wondering for him?. A woman pointing at something in the distance, holding hands with a vigorous boy pushing her in the opposite direction. Could she be his mother?, his sister?, a babysitter?. At the end of the corner, a couple was giggling and staring each other. Could that story have had a beginning similar to the end of the last case he had faced?.

_Let it go._

He sighed after a second, returning from the useless thoughts, and checked the water in order to prepare himself a coffee. He would have preferred a tea, but thanks to his actual need of awareness, he could not choose.

Edgeworth released another sigh when he sat in his chair. A pile of papers in front of him forced him to look at the particular bunch in the left corner of the desk. Those were from Iris' verdict. He sipped the coffee. It was bitter. Like the case itself.

_Takes one to know one_.

The phrase echoed in his mind.

He had read the transcript of the trial. The small conversation at the end had been... expected. She had fulfilled the promise and somehow, he was not sure about what he had promised her back. That moment in the Detention Centre, when her brown eyes peered his soul; part of this mind had stopped working, victim of an inexplicable fear he never allowed himself to show her.

He was not meant to feel that kind of things. That was an undeniable Truth. They were strange for him; entirely unnecessary, but he could understand why most people did not think that way. As those he had seen through the windows, they usually seemed content, and why not, happy.

So, probably, it was worthy to try it as a gesture of gratitude to _that_ _man_.

He sipped the coffee, again. Still bitter.

_That man_ had saved him. He owed _him_ several things, and debts usually build links. A link he was not sure to keep. A link he was not sure to be aware.

He finished his coffee. More bitter than ever.

He had to make a visit.

* * *

Edgeworth sat in the chair, opened his briefcase on his lap, and took many papers that split all over the small table in front of the big glass window. Through it, he could see the warm smile drawn on Iris' face.

"I didn't know you would visit me..."

"I apologize for the inconvenient. I've been reading your final verdict, and I believe it could be possible to use some legal blank spaces to reduce your sentence... but naturally, I would need your agreement first."

"It's okay. I have to pay for my own sins, and my sister's."

"I understand, but... I may ask you to reconsider it. I could come later and we can speak..."

Surprised at first, Iris' eyes looked down, turning her sweet smile into a tired one. Something reached her thoughts, something had made sense in that instant. Or at least, that was what Edgeworth thought. Her hand grabbed the magatama which was hung around her neck, and the gesture tensed Edgeworth for a second.

"I see..." she said and stared the prosecutor.

His heart beat faster and a slight concern hardened his expression. To be honest, he was a little afraid. "...do you agree?"

"This means... Feenie... has something to do with this?"

"...who?" Edgeworth squinted for a second. "...oh. No. I am the one who decided to suggest this possibility to you".

"Why?"

"I-I've been thinking about the case... and I believe the verdict was a bit too hard, considering your personal situation... I want to make sure things are fair..." Iris looked at him for an instant, silent, still not recovered from the surprise. "However, Wright is not aware of this suggestion. I thought it would be more appropriate to ask you in the first place..." _and also, don't generate false expectations upon him. He passed through a lot of stuff in these past years_. Edgeworth ended his statement in his mind.

"I don't know. I need to think about it" she said.

"Very well. Until then..."

Edgeworth took again his briefcase and put the papers into it. He made a formal goodbye and when he had the intention to leave the chair, Iris stopped him. She called a guard, and gave him an object. The guard went outside the visual range of Edgeworth and a moment later, he gave him a bracelet made of black stone pearls. Surprised, Edgeworth looked at Iris, who smiled like the situation was too obvious, but she explained anyway.

"Please, Mr Edgeworth, could you give this to him?"

"Oh. Of course. I shall do so".

"Thank you. You are kind as always".

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow that made Iris widen her smile, leaving the visit room afterwards.

He put the accessory in the inner pocket of his jacket and left the place.

* * *

His life had had several crucial points. This was another one. Crossing a burning bridge had not been the wisest decision in his entire life, but it had brought him interesting things, he must admit.

Art, channelling situations, and murder. Well, maybe they were not so interesting. But he almost died. If that was not crucial, then he did not know what crucial meant.

Also Larry found the path to follow in his life, and that had been positive. He would be focused in the colours used in a painting, rather than those on some lady's eyes.

Maya had returned to Kurain Village with a stronger ability, based on her hard performance during the whole case. Her body had reached an endurance that probably would have never found otherwise.

And Godot... well.

Mia's boyfriend. Well, not anymore. He was an _almost_ dead boyfriend. Would that make him an ex-boyfriend?. Anyway. The man turned insane due to a blind revenge.

_Trite._ What a mad man.

However, Mia had told him the man would finally find the peace he needed. He only could hope to never deal again with someone with such a weird taste for coffee. What could Mia have seen in that man that made him so interesting for her?.

Tired of being sit in front of his desk wondering all day, Phoenix stretched his legs and arms by walking around his office, and then threw his body onto the sofa. He scratched his head and rested his arms over his eyes.

He had been present when Godot and Franziska interacted in the Hazakura Temple. He never had seen that woman so quiet before. Maybe it was because of the strange aura surrounding the white-haired man. It was a mystery: what had Mia seen in him that made her love him?.

He sighed.

_Feelings were unexpected by nature. _

The thought changed into another one... and the image of the warm, smiling Dollie sharing his bed in a rainy Saturday morning, put a silly smile on his face.

Oh, he knew about unexpected feelings. That word just brought another image, which disappeared in a memory of his childhood.

Larry and Miles were by his side, after class, talking about something he was unable to remember, but those feeling still remained. A nostalgic, warm and so distant feeling.

In that instant, the humming of the coffee machine stopped, as well the fan in the ceiling. The little relief that the old fan could provide had stopped; and the heat would not take too much time to become suffocating.

Phoenix swore at the weather and walked towards the office's balcony. It seemed the electricity went out in the whole zone.

_Wonderful._

He was not going to spend the rest of the day in the little hell his office was about to turn into.

Without grabbing his jacket, he left the place and headed to the near coffee shop.

There was a congestion in the zone; several cars were trapped in the street, a horn sounded from the distance. It was clear that some kind of accident had happened.

"Walk along. Do not stay in the middle. We need to take care here."

A strong and loud voice was explaining the situation as Phoenix crossed the street, hopping a bonnet of a car. The driver swore at him, and Phoenix just scratched his head while waving his hand in the air.

The horns were less intense in the distance. Thankfully, the next street seemed to have electricity, so the coffee shop should be opened and cool. Finally a bit of luck in this strange situation.

He entered the shop, feeling the fresh breeze surrounding him, and looked around, noticing the environment was more crowded than usual. He chose a table close to window and sat there, waiting for the cold green tea he had just ordered with a simple gesture at the owner.

Resting his chin on his hand, he looked at the mess outside through the big window. The store reduced part of the noisy chaos outside; something Phoenix thanked silently, despite it was impossible to be completely isolated from that hell of horns.

Having gotten used of the noise, his thoughts changed again into Pearl's image. The case had been a lot of stress for the little girl, and he could not help but worry for her. He promised himself to phone them back in the next week, when the most of the paperwork of the case were done. The little girl had lost not only her father time ago, but also her mother now.

What happened in Hazakura Temple, had been a nightmare for many.

A sigh struggled to escape from his chest.

_Iris._

That had been a blow for his mind as well. The person he thought Dahlia was... for almost six months. Despite the uncomfortable image that still remained in his mind due to the case, he smiled, and took off his badge from the lapel. It was shiny, brightening as a symbol of hope. Thanks to it, he was able to defend Iris.

Well, for _half _the case..

He widened his smile. He still could not believe what Edgeworth had done. How is it that this inflexible man accepted such a ridiculous situation?. He chuckled, caressing the badge. Again, the memory of their childhood emerged in his mind.

_Ah, there it was. _Those emotions flowing through him.

Getting older was making him a bit nostalgic. Maybe that was the natural flow of the things. Maybe it was just a small misunderstanding.

_Well, maybe not so small._

The waiter appeared on his side and left the tea on the table, forcing him to return from his thoughts. He blinked, and nodded at him.

When he took the first sip, a certain man with deep frown lines and a clearly angry face, entered the shop. There was no mistake at all; the cravat in his neck was an irrefutable proof. Briefcase on hand, Edgeworth stood there for a moment, looking for a good spot for him to sit. Without hesitation, Phoenix beckoned him with his hand, getting the whole prosecutor's attention, who walked towards him, impassive.

"What a surprise, Edgeworth". Said Phoenix, still playing with the badge in his fingers.

"This is an utter madness. I can't believe how those... those... savages can be all the time pressing the horns. I couldn't... The pain in my ears was... unbearable". His jaw was tensed.

"You were close to the mess?"

"I was in the middle of that noisy hell."

"Wait... you were in your car? What happened to it?"

"I left it. I had to. Just look at the street, Wright." he pointed at the windows which were displaying an endless row of cars "There is no hint that says this would be solved in the following... two hours. Nghrr, and here I am, with so many things that I must be taking care of at the office". The first thing Edgeworth did when he sat in front of Phoenix, was pressing the bridge of his nose, followed by a long, loud sigh.

"Ah, c'mon. Take it easy, Edgeworth. There isn't much you can do, anyway"

"I believe you are right. Unfortunately."

Quickly, the waiter approached their table and took Edgeworth's order: a fine English tea with some German words that Phoenix could not understand. Maybe they were some special herbs, or just a particular process.

The waiter's delay in bringing the order was short.

As long as the steamy tea was not in front of Edgeworth, his irritation did not die down. Little by little, his facial expression softened, as the smell of the infusion reached Edgeworth's nostrils.

"Are you okay?" Phoenix asked after sipping his cold tea. He had not stopped observing the slow process of relaxation on the prosecutor's face: the softening of his deep frown lines, the corner of the lips straightening, and his hands were now loosening, close to the teacup. That was when he realized there were dark circles under the prosecutor's eyes.

"Yes, Wright. I just appear to be lacking some sleep, that should be"

"Nightmares? Again?" Phoenix's face showed his concern.

"No, paperwork"

"Uh... worse."

Edgeworth chuckled.

Once again, the lost memory appeared in Phoenix's mind as his eyes jumped from the street to his tea and then to Edgeworth.

"You being here was unexpected, Wright"

"I know. But my office was going to turn into a hell, you know, the electricity went out... I guess it wouldn't be strange if all this mess turns out be related somehow."

Edgeworth looked at him, as he held the teacup close to his chin in order to subtly smell its exquisite scent one more time. Phoenix's explanation satisfied him and he took a sip. "How are you, Wright?"

Phoenix raised his eyebrows at the same time he was tasting the last part of his own tea. He glared at Edgeworth, looking for a hint to understand what was that question for, considering that the previous day they had finally put such complex trial to an end. However, he got no clue. The man lowered his eyes and focused on his teacup, as it had developed a sudden incredible quality worth being appreciated with much enthusiasm. For a brief moment, Phoenix mentally went through the messy trial they lived, until he found a possible reason for being questioned in such a strange tone. Narrowing his eyes, he observed his friend in detail and drew a pleasant smile on his face.

"I'm okay. Thanks. Many things make sense now."

"That reminds me..." Edgeworth said, still without eye contact. "This is a request I've been asked to perform." He opened his jacket and took out the bracelet from the inner pocket. The Prosecutor's face was stone-like impassive, as always when he was performing a duty, and put the object over the table, sliding it towards the spiky-haired man.

Phoenix clutched and examined it. There was something familiar about it, but he was unable to figure out what it was.

"It is a gift to you. From Iris" Edgeworth added quickly.

The words dampened Phoenix's eyes as his smile began to tinge with remnants of nostalgia. For him, that object had a powerful meaning. It was the present that must have been given to him the past, not the cursed necklace that corrupted everything. This gift from Iris – not from Dahlia- gave a fresh meaning to those moments with her. The pain and confusion he went through on his own trial, when his mentor was still alive, seemed to have been worthy just for that moment. That was the real memento he had to keep in his memories.

He sighed, still charmed by the bracelet.

"Did you go visit her?"

"I chose to be the prosecutor responsible for the case after Prosecutor Godot... '_declined'_. I asked for it because you should be aware of the kind of irregularities surrounding it that I do not want to be known by other people."

"Oh?... Oh. Yeah, sure, you asked for it because of the _irregularity_..." The awkward tone he used made Edgeworth wonder, whether it had been a simple mockery or an actual oversight. "Thanks for that too".

"There is nothing to thank me for. I owe you, Wright". When Phoenix was about to add something else, the prosecutor stopped him with the serious face he used during trials, "As I was saying, being prosecutor responsible for this case, I'm currently dealing with the paperwork and I've realized the existence of many legal blank spaces that could be useful in order to decrease Iris' sentence. I asked for her approval to do so..."

"What did she say?"

"She is going to think about it". Once again, Edgeworth's gaze fell onto the table, jumping to the window and returning to the teacup until he finally gathered some strength. "Wright... I know this is none of my business, and I am probably invading your private and personal space related to..."

"Just say it, Edgeworth" the lawyer chuckled and put his chin on his free hand, while caressing the gift with the other one. Edgeworth put his attention into that hand, charmed by something he could not determine. Maybe it was the contrast between Phoenix's skin and the dark colour of the bracelet, maybe it was the slow and careful movement those fingers were doing all over the little stone pearls. Perhaps it was the symbol, the strong, pure and deep symbol that those hands had engraved on his subconsciousness.

"She should be free in less time than expected, if these blank spaces are used in a future appeal. I would like to give you a friendly counsel, and suggest that you should... _rekindle_ your previous relationship. I believe she would not be interested in rejecting... you."

"Wow, Edgeworth, when did you turn into a matchmaker?"

All his neutral and professional image fell apart, and he glowered at him with a deep frown.

The comment had worked in the exact way Phoenix wanted. Phoenix needed to stop that evasive behaviour, so proper from Edgeworth outside the courtroom, and, thankfully, it had worked on the spot. Edgeworth's intense gaze was now fixed on him.

Phoenix chuckled again, despite the warm emptiness being felt in his guts. Making fun of Edgeworth was always special. It had something to do with playing with stuff that should not be understood. They would remain, for they never could be discerned. It was something so complex and veiled that, probably, it was a good idea to just let it go.

"Aww, c'mon, Edgeworth, it was a joke." he said, and lowered his eyes to the present on his hand. "I see what you mean, but... Now a lot of things make sense, and … Sure, I feel better for knowing the Truth in the end, even after so many years... but it's past."

"Looking at you, right now, it doesn't seem that way..."

Still with a smile on his face, Phoenix gave him a look. That man had his usual prosecutor mask on, staring back at him with that icy glare, a hand over the other side of the teacup, and a slightly lifted chin.

"Do you want me to take her back? Really?"

"What I want is irrelevant, Wright. I am only giving you a clear advice, considering all the information I have", his brow wrinkled a little more.

"Information? Such as...?"

"I am not going to repeat all the file contents that I've gathered for this trial. You know them very well, since you are a part of them yourself."

"Well, yes... I was part in the incident about Dahlia, but... that was a lot of time ago. People change"

The last phrase had its own weight. Edgeworth was unable to play the fool and shut him up. There was nothing more to be said.

"Very well. I only considered suitable an impartial suggestion as a par-... friend." he had to add. It was a useless explanation, but it seemed very crucial to him.

"And I thank you, Edgeworth, but really... that's in the past. Of course I care for Iris. She was special for me, and she still is..."

Phoenix's smile widened as he kept playing unconsciously with the bracelet.

There were no more words to be said. Edgeworth remained silent, and gave a glimpse to his empty teacup. His eyes glided from that spot to Phoenix's hand, still caressing the gift with his fingers.

There was nothing more than the noisy environment surrounding them both, and slowly they immersed themselves into their own, lonely thoughts.

* * *

It was autumn. Red, yellow and brown trees decorated the urban landscape with a bit of nostalgic sentiments, but they did not mind. They were happy.

Phoenix was holding Iris' hand, as they were walking in the park until they found a bench. From his bag, Phoenix took two hot coffee cans and gave one to Iris. They were giggling to each other like a couple of silly birds. But they did not mind.

The landscape inspired Iris, who recited what Phoenix thought it was poetry. The religious connotations of the piece did not surprise him. After all, he had found among Iris' interests several topics related to Shinto gods.

He leant over her and rested his head on Iris' shoulder. He even rubbed his nose on her neck, causing her some giggles due to the tickles. With her free hand, she caressed his jaw, and like a puppy, Phoenix reacted immediately, getting close to her face and kissing her cheek several times. Tiny and playful kisses, until finding her lips. Then, the contact stopped its foolish flow and turned into a deeper, intense feeling.

When they parted, both of them giggled again, flushed. They were probably not aware how foolish they looked. However, they did not mind.

"Feenie, it would be better if we drank the coffee now. It's gonna be cold"

They opened the cans and drank them peacefully, looking at the trees in the distance, feeling the smooth breeze over their flushed cheeks.

"I'd really like to paint this park, with both of us in it" said Phoenix, surrounding Iris shoulders and pulling her towards him, so they could keep warm.

"You should, it would be so beautiful."

"I don't have time... Next week I'll give many law exams, you know... and when I think I can draw something, I grab the pencil and then... the inspiration goes away."

"Why don't we use an incentive to keep it?"

"What do you mean, Dollie?"

For a second, Iris lost her breath. That name was always a storm of mixed feelings. A storm she wanted to stop now more than ever, but she could not help but perceive how tiny she was in the madness her sister had built. She had to live with the constant threat of a tragic end at any time. She could stop the future tragedy by taking away that necklace, but even the most elemental task was, in fact, so hard to perform. Every small chance she had found, every trick she had used, had been useless for this man.

This man. Her Feenie... she was so weak before him. If only... If only she were strong enough to steal that cursed necklace, to lie to him and grab it one night from his room. If only...

"Are you okay, Dollie-love?" Phoenix said.

She smiled again. One more chance. _The last one. _

"I was thinking... What if you give me back the necklace as an incentive to paint this wonderful park?. I'd really like to see all this beauty captured in a canvas by my Feenie's hand."

"Aww, no, Dollie, I need it with me... it makes me remember you when we aren't together."

"Oh, but I will give it back to you when you finish the painting...". Her heart beat faster. It was so hard to lie to him. So hurtful.

"I couldn't even start the painting without it", Phoenix put a hand over his chest, and felt the small bottle against his skin, under the clothes. "I'm working really hard with college. Law studies sometimes make me feel so frustrated, but then I touch the necklace, and something happens. Like a recharge. I can keep going a little more and finish my work. I really need it"

"Feenie..." mortified, Iris hugged him while Phoenix was still smiling like a fool unable to understand the real meaning behind Iris' words.

During the contact, a corner of paper struck his chest, making him aware of the envelope in his upper t-shirt pocket. He kissed Iris' cheek, and stood up from the bench.

"Give me a sec. I need to send this letter... I'll be here in a minute"

Phoenix smiled again and ran to the next mailbox, almost twenty meters far away from where they were seated.

Several months ago, he had written a letter without understanding entirely the motivation in doing so, as usual. The more he wrote, despite never being answered, the more he felt an urge to end his law studies. The general gossip and the official news were always in his mind, buzzing, blocking entirely his artistic motivation. The truth was, whenever the necklace was not enough to keep him pushing... the letters and _him_ were.

He put the envelope into the mailbox with a bright smile and ran back to Dollie, feeling a little more enthusiastic, a little happier without understanding it at all. But he did not mind.

The following week would teach him that even the most tiny and foolish details should have mattered to him, after all.

* * *

The trial had ended. Only ten minutes this time, the previous one lasting twenty five. He had achieved a personal record. Perhaps Von Karma would be pleased.

He grabbed the papers and put them in his briefcase. Then he looked beyond the defense's bench: the rookie attorney was grabbing his head with his hands, while the defendant's brother was shouting at him.

Afraid of forgetting something, Edgeworth opened his briefcase again and looked inside for the plastic bag with the _decisive_ piece of evidence: a knife stained with the victim's blood all over its edge. That weapon never had touched the victim, but it had killed that rookie attorney for sure.

He closed the briefcase, convinced that the evidence would be eliminated from the rest of the case as a "loss", due to the haphazardly bureaucracy of the police department. As Von Karma has always told him to do with that kind of... _evidence_.

When he got out of the courtroom, he found Manfred waiting for him at the corridor, with his back resting against the wall, pounding the ground with his cane, observing every walking person with his judgemental eyes. Edgeworth approached him.

"A pleasant end." Manfred said without looking at him.

"Thank you, Sir"

"You must have solved it in a shorter time than five minutes, but... at least, you have accomplished the goal. Keep doing the same and probably some day you will find a challenge worthy to be accepted". A twisted smirk was drawn on Manfred's face.

"I will, Sir."

"I will wait for you at home. We must discuss matters regarding some... sources."

"Allow me to pass by my office first and arrange some paperwork, and I will be there."

"Very well. Be quick."

"Yes, Sir. Have a good day until our reunion."

"Hmph. I'm sure I'll do."

Manfred walked past Edgeworth with his chin up, and barely greeted another fellow prosecutor worthy to be noted by him. When they reached the door, Edgeworth opened it and let his tutor get out first, who entered his limousine and gave the driver some indications. In a matter of seconds, the car had gone far away. By that time, Edgeworth was in his own car, observing in silence a bunch of flowers that a woman was holding as she crossed the street.

After arriving at his office, Edgeworth locked the door. He walked towards the tidy desk, where a pile of envelopes were placed in the middle, and put the briefcase over it. Once opened, he moved into a police box all the evidence related to the case, except for the knife.

When the box was sealed with police tape, he walked to the wall where a big painting of a park in autumn was hanged. He took it down and opened the secret safe box built in it, from where he took several pieces of evidence that the police had "_missed_" due to their foolishness, and put them all in his own briefcase.

He tidied up the painting and then grabbed the briefcase and the box. This dropped the pile of envelopes, partly over the desk and partly on the ground.

He wanted to leave the office that way, but the mess was hurting his eyes; it would be stuck in his mind for the rest of the day, and considering he had an appointment with his mentor, it would be better to avoid extra thoughts on his head.

He sighed with resignation and put the things he held in his hands on the sofa. He knelt and gathered all the envelopes, reading in a glimpse some words, in order to get a general idea about who were those annoying people that sent him the foolish mail.

Suddenly, among the name of several fellow prosecutors, he read it: _Phoenix Wright._

An irritated and unstoppable deep sigh emerged from his chest. He was _sick_ of this man.

A certain day, in a summer morning, a simple, pinkish envelope with a terrible handwriting appeared on his desk. It had many sheets of paper talking about wrong paths and good intentions.

Edgeworth had been so angry at that moment.

Since that day, from time to time, more mail from this cry-baby appeared on his desk. The letters were written with endless flows of sentences speaking about sentiments of friendship and kindness, and he could not help but perceive them as empty words. How could it be possible for a man to keep saying he was still his friend after all that time, just due to a dimmed remembrance of what they shared as kids?. The most remarkable part was that mail had never been answered. How could a person keep trying so hard when there was nothing as a response? How could he care about another person, when there was nothing more than a cold and lifeless absence?.

_Phoenix Wright_. The man without logic, always writing about saving him.

And what did he want to save him from?.

Whenever he found those letters on his desk, he always crumpled them with furious fists, crushing the paper to the point to almost rip it off; they always forced him to think about useless memories of his past, about those stupid two friends he once had, and the warm smile of his father's face at the end of the day. All _unnecessary_ thoughts.

Those letters were too dangerous, they had to be left into a trashcan; but he could not help it. After the storm of memories mixed with hatred and melancholy, the curiosity to know what the crumpled paper said was irresistible. Over and over, those letters reached the end of the day being opened... and read.

Failed. Once again.

And there it was: the opened envelope, the smooth paper, the scribbled handwriting.

More foolish sentiments about friendship and concern, about thinking in him every time the stupid guy had doubts regarding his law studies, being helped by a foolish necklace as well.

What an utter nonsense. Why was he reading? Why was he continuing with that ridiculous act?.

Edgeworth could not fool himself. He knew it. Those stupid words had infuriated him, but what angered him the most was himself.

He crumpled and ruined the letter in the same way he had done before with the others.

As the fury passed, the regrets wrapped him in such way he could only unfold the paper, smooth it again, and put it back into the envelope.

Hating himself, he grabbed a particular box from the library. Inside it, there was another one, smaller, in a red wine colour. He put the envelope into it, along with the rest of the letters he had received since the first one.

Observing that box was... so confusing. But he could not help but feel guilty. Guilty for reading them, keeping them in the box, re-reading them every time he felt some strange whim he did not know how to name.

Useless, inefficient, problematic, unexpected and nonsensical whims.

That was what the box was for.

The box of the unbelievable foolishness.

* * *

Returning to reality, Edgeworth still was unable to take his eyes off that hand. After gathering some strength in his mind, he broke the charm by extending his arm over the table and looking at his wristwatch.

An hour had passed; and the street was still blocked.

Once more, he felt like losing his control: his sight jumped from his watch to the table and from there, to the window. Slowly, to the teacups, and finally, fell again under its charm: that hand. Mentally, he drew an imaginary path, starting there, passing through Phoenix's arm skin, and stopping at the white shirt he was wearing.

_What could have happened to his usual blue jacket?._

Absent mind, Edgeworth could not stop his gaze. He followed his way along the arm, the shoulder and the neck, where he found an undone tie with the pretension of being red coloured, but it could barely be considered that way due to its pinkish reflection. He continued from the neck to the jaw, crossing his cheek... and there.

The eyes. Those brownish grey eyes. The former dampness had not abandoned Phoenix's eyes.

_Probably, he was still thinking about Iris. How could not he do so?. It was clear the strong impact that woman had on his soul. _

Phoenix kept looking at the bracelet, unaware of his friend's silent stare.

On the other hand, Edgeworth was barely conscious of his own sight, thinking, as usual, too much. Remembrances, letters, a gun and gin.

A glimpse of that man, whose eyes were now fixed in the foolish gift, had been always enough to awake useless emotions in him. Emotions that never gave him anything clear, perhaps because they had no shape, or maybe because he was not willing to perceive them in detail.

Edgeworth sighed so deeply it called Phoenix's attention, who looked at him, with a small and meek smile.

_Nghhh._

Again, all those useless things broke free in his mind, revolting his guts and making him feel utterly disgusted with himself. As he had thought, just a simple glimpse was enough.

"I was thinking..." Phoenix said. "Maybe you are right."

"About what?" Edgeworth raised an eyebrow.

"People change... maybe Iris has changed too... maybe... the past is something nobody can change, but things like this are in the present. The context now isn't the same than before."

"Exactly." A slight bitterness twisted his voice, but Phoenix did not perceive it. "Then I trust you will visit her soon. That being the case, I would like to make you a request: ask her if she thought about my previous question, and notify me the answer, Wright."

"Sure..."

The conversation reached its dead point. Empty teacups on the table and the constant noise from outside seemed to be all that remained of the brief meeting. But they were not allowed to leave, to just run away from the awkwardness that slowly was installing in the environment.

Edgeworth sighed; he wanted to leave, as always. The other man was again mid-lost in his memories, and probably what he needed the most in that moment to drag him back into reality, was the ability of making small talk in order to break the ice. _Hmph_. He and small talk. Repellent things do not match.

_That useless and, at the same time, complex social tool. _

"What are you going to do, Edgeworth?" the prosecutor stared at him, unsure whether he had missed part of the conversation or just the meaning of the question.

"W-What?"

"Uh... are you okay?"

"Yes, of course, I was lost in my thoughts... My apologies. What did you ask me?"

"Uhm. What are you going to do when the paperwork of this case is over? Will you stay here? Will you go abroad?"

"Well, I've been requested for some abroad tasks worth to be pondered before giving a clear answer, but I'm highly tempted to accept."

"Oww." Phoenix put the bracelet in his upper shirt pocket, and crossed his arms over the table with a little friendly, tired smile on his face. Impassive, the prosecutor only observed him back, waiting for a clarification. "I was starting to get used to you again". One more time that useless sensation stabbed his chest.

Then, Phoenix chuckled. "But... Thank you, Edgeworth. I thank you a lot for what you've done. You and Franziska. This could have been such a mess".

"Indeed. But there is nothing you should be thanking me for. As I said earlier. I owe you". Casually, Edgeworth avoided Phoenix's eyes, pretending to look through the window, with his usual elegant gesture. As if nothing could have any importance at all.

"No, you don't". Phoenix smiled again in a meeker way. _Words had never been enough. What could be enough?. _"You know Edgeworth... before you leave, we should have another celebration. What do you think?"

"I believe you will be bankrupt sooner than you expect."

Widening his smile, Phoenix scratched his head while Edgeworth smiled back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Smiling, giggling, avoiding their looks just to gaze at each other again. One more time in their lives they were walking on the edge of foolishness. But this time, there was a big, transparent and cold difference: the glass window that was keeping them apart.

"Feenie..."

"Iris..."

They sighed their names, knowing this encounter was more special than any other they had before. A fizzy sensation coming from their bellies, the beat of their hearts went fast and their hands started to sweat, imperceptibly.

It was awkward. They only could look at each other with a smile, accepting the symptoms of something that did not resemble anything they lived in the past, but was still tinged with that foolishness of their youth.

"I've got your gift..."

"I'm happy... Feenie."

Again the silence, the beat, the slight pressure in their breathing. A storm of memories unleashed in their minds as they had their eyes fixed in each other, so close, so vivid.

He broke the charm and ran his hands through his hair.

"Edgeworth asked me to tell him what you decided about this thing he proposed you"

"I don't know, Feenie. I was thinking about declining... after all, it couldn't be fair for my aunt." She placed her hand over the magatama hanged around her neck. "And what Dahlia did..."

"What Dahlia did has nothing to do with this, Iris. Just think about yourself. You didn't kill Misty Fey"

"I-I didn't... but I d-did things too."

Iris contorted her face in pain and looked down to her hands, now opened before her. She could still feel the warm body being dragged, the blood, the body resistance during the stabbing. How many sacred things had she corrupted with those hands?.

"That was a mess, Iris. Don't blame yourself. Please... If Edgeworth said there was something we could do to reduce your sentence, believe me, it's because he thinks it's completely fair."

Iris looked aside in silence. _It made sense, but also.._. "What do you think about it, Feenie?"

Phoenix blinked, and after a second, he smiled full of confidence. "I believe you should accept Edgeworth's offering. It would be nice to have you around quicker than we expected. We could use that time to... speak and see what's going on, if you want to".

Now it was her turn to blink. Surprised, Iris stared at him for several seconds, unable to understand what was the meaning behind those words. A spark of hope lightened her face, thinking about returning to the point where they had left off and start all over again. She smiled with moist eyes.

"Feenie..."

Phoenix scratched his head and got closer to the glass. "I must be honest, I'm not completely sure about that... but... we can try if you want... We need to talk about us again, and maybe... who knows"

Those words pushed the restrained tears out of her eyes. She cleaned her cheeks and with those dampened fingers and touched the glass softly, as if she could break it. Moved by the expectations that old memories gave her, Phoenix smiled back, and put his hand over the glass, in the same place where Iris' was.

"Thank you for the gift..." he added.

Losing track of the time, they realized they had wasted all the visit hour in their foolishness when some guards approached them and asked to put the meeting to an end. He smiled again and waved his hand in the air, while she walked through the door accompanied by those men.

Then, he just let his smile fade away and sighed. Probably he was not used to such amount of feelings flowing inside of him. It had been a while.

"Hey, pal!" The familiar voice forced him to turn his face toward the Detective, who was sweating despite showing no signs of any rush.

"Detective Gumshoe... What's up?"

"All in order. For now. What a mess this case was, pal."

"Yeah." Both of them looked at each other awkwardly. "What about Godot?" he finally asked, just to fill the uneasy silence.

"Ah... that man. He'll be transferred to a special prison in a day or two. He doesn't say a word, pal. He just... drinks coffee. Cup after cup."

_Well, that makes sense, I'm sure he is going to miss it for a while. _

Gumshoe was giving him a slight smirk since they started to talk. It was a bit annoying. Those bright eyes fixed on him were, by far, more uncomfortable than the awkward silence between them.

"... Uhm... so. Well... Detective Gumshoe... what's up?"

"Huh? What's up? I've told you already!..."

"Yeah, but... are you sure you're not going to ask me about something else?" _Your face speaks for yourself._

"Oh, no, no. I was... nothing"

Phoenix squinted, but in the end, he just gave up on the detective. There was no need to push harder, because it was probably some silly thing related to a memory of the detective in his childhood, or maybe some song he had just remembered.

"Ok, so I guess I'll be going to my office..." Phoenix patted on Gumshoe's shoulder "have a good day, Detective"

"You too, pal."

He walked away, but he could not stop the unpleasant feeling growing in his guts, like a little bug crawling on his back. Maybe it was a hunch, maybe his magatama, or just a natural intuition he had developed in those short years, but Gumshoe's behaviour crept him out. However, he just let it go.

_I'm tired. Too many emotions for a day._

When he returned to his office, he took his phone and threw himself on the sofa, marking Edgeworth's office number.

The conversation was short and completely distant, as usual with things related to Edgeworth. Smiling, and probably giggling from time to time, Phoenix informed the prosecutor about Iris' decision.

"_I have work to do_."

Those were the words he finally heard on the other side of the phone, with the same voice tone that had made people tremble on court many times, and hanged up. Phoenix sighed. He let the phone over the small table in front the sofa, and without any warning, his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

* * *

"You are, indeed, a promising Prosecutor".

Sat in his chair, Edgeworth shut the folder on his hands, looking at the boy. The teenage prosecutor was wearing a black coat with an embroidery of a particular crest he had never seen before. The short black hair and his penetrating gaze gave him a dangerous aura, which was even more intense considering his recently started studies in analytical psychology. Edgeworth smirked imperceivable as he wondered how diabolical the young prosecutor could become if he lost his path.

"I feel myself honoured".

_Hmph_._ Very promising. And an interesting vocabulary considering the way he has written his curriculum_. He thought. The more information Edgeworth got about the boy, the more interesting his mental picture of him turned into. The potential was undeniable.

"Unfortunately, I will be working abroad for a year or two. I'm afraid I cannot accept you as a direct subordinate right now, even if I believe you are fairly qualified for it. I see a bright future ahead of you, considering your recent studies".

"It is then my intention to wait, until the moment is proper for me to travail under your guidance"

"Hmph" The feeling of knowing somebody would wait for him in some way or another gave him a comfortable sentiment. A faint remembrance seemed to disappear in the background of his mind. "Believe me, I'm regretting the promises I made abroad."

"Please, do not apologize, Edgeworth-dono. Eschewing the fulfilling of the given word is nothing but a death sentence".

Edgeworth rose an eyebrow. _Well. That was, in fact, quite extreme, considering a polite excuse could avoid misunderstandings._

The dark boy took the folder from Edgeworth's hands, and after a distinctive bow, he promised to return when the prosecutor was available. Then, he left the room.

On a special page in his notebook, Edgeworth wrote the name of the young prosecutor, and after checking the mail for seventeenth time in the day, he finally prepared himself to leave the office.

He had arranged all the cases regarding the past two weeks, and also had informed the Prosecutor's Office about his departure. There was no more duties to fulfil in that country. For a brief moment, he looked at the framed old jacket in the wall and smirked, changing his gesture into a pleasant and thankful smile. His mood cheered up a bit; only a bit, so imperceptible that nobody could be aware of it in case of seeing him.

Then, he thought of_ him_.

That thought pleased him even more. Determined, he took the phone and looked for Phoenix's number into his agenda. After all, he had promised the attorney in a silent way that he would inform him about the day of his own departure when it was close. A twelve hour lapse of time was close enough. However, a knock in his door interrupted the dialling.

"Mr Edgeworth". Said Gumshoe, panting and walking into the office after a brief salute.

"Detective Gumshoe". He hung up the phone, folded his hands and rested them over the desk, sitting straight in his chair. "Was there something you wanted to discuss? I've been told you wished to speak with me."

"Well... I just found out you are going to leave, Sir... Is that true?".

"Why, yes."

"Oww... I'm gonna miss you, Sir"

"You will do just fine without me, detective". He said without letting his tone become too obvious.

"I hope you talk to Mr. Wright before departing, Sir. I would not like to see him in the same state he got when..."

"Hmph?" Edgeworth raised an eyebrow and his stare intensified, making the detective feel uneasy.

"The man was very upset about the note you, Sir, left that time..."

"Hmph." Edgeworth took again his agenda and opened it in the page where Wright's number was written.

"And I think it would be a pity to ruin his mood again, now that he and that miss seemed like they were going to work out..."

Raising his eyes from the agenda, he fixed them on Gumshoe's face without showing surprise. Then _he,_ indeed, had rekindled the relationship, after all. He closed the agenda and let it aside.

"Wright?" he asked pretending as much uncertainty as he could, so Gumshoe would leak the information he had gathered.

"Yes, Sir. I saw them yesterday. You should see them, Sir. Like a movie, you know... where the loved one is trapped, and they see through a window, and they put their hands over the glass... Like they are feeling each other... It was so romantic, Sir. I could not stop smiling at them... you know. I always wanted a love that way, passing through a lot of troubles, but in the end..."

At that point, Edgeworth stopped listening to the detective.

_But in the end they married, and fight the Evilness together, like the Steel Samurai. _

The image was recreated in his mind in the same way he had watched it in the forty-seventh episode of the forth season.

The samurai had been victim of poisoning, and he was unable to use his ability to destroy the dark plan of the Evil Magistrate. The Evilness had locked the samurai into the abandoned dungeons of the castle. The dark, wet and stinky cell in the underground was all he had and probably it would be the last thing his eyes would see. But then, a sound had reached his ears. A sound like a song of hope. And there she was, the Pink Princess, close to the small barred window, singing at him. Barely able to move himself, the samurai crawled as close to the window as he could, and lifted his hand. He needed to take that hope, to feel the singing through his body. The princess entangled her fingers with his, and gave him an antidote, promising him to rescue him in the following episode. The resemblance among the princess and the samurai with Iris and _that man_ were by far clear. At least for him.

When the train of thoughts was almost done, the last image came to his mind in the shape of the Iron Infant. He sighed. Life was supposed to work that way, and he should not mind at all. He always knew several things in this world were not available for him. They were facts of life, as real and true as death itself. And he had to accept them.

"Sir?" Gumshoe asked, concerned because of the brief moment the prosecutor had spent far away, immerse in his own thoughts.

"My apologies, Detective. I believe I should leave, if you don't have anything else to talk with me."

Gumshoe looked at his watch. "It's too early, Sir..."

"Y-Yes. Of... course. But I have to arrange my personal stuff, and prepare my equipment. It shall take time".

"Oh, I see. So I won't waste more of your time, Sir"

"I'd appreciate it, Detective"

"Just remember to talk to Mr. Wright, because… you know, I wouldn't like to see him down, now that he is trying this thing with the miss."

_Don't worry, detective. I assure you, you will not see him that way anymore._ Edgeworth stared at Gumshoe in silence.

"I hope you have a good trip, Sir". The detective added in a little nervous way, because Edgeworth had stood up from his desk and taken something from one of the drawers.

"Thank you very much, Detective. I would like to ask you a favor, if you don't mind" said the prosecutor approaching Gumshoe.

"Of course not, Sir. I would be happy to be helpful."

"Take this." He gave him a mobile phone. "It's a unique mobile. With it, you will be able to call me in case of any emergency, whenever you need to communicate with me, no matter the place. Please do not share this device with someone else, and keep it in secret until it would be necessary. I would appreciate your call instead of Mr Butz's, if something relevant happens."

"Uh, but, Sir, why don't I call your regular number instead?"

"I would be working in several matters that demand my isolation, so my current number will be blocked for a while."

"Oh! Sir, you are going incognito, uh? That's cool!"

"And do not mind about the bill." he added, avoiding Gumshoe's words. "It would be paid from abroad. The only request I'm making you, Detective, is keeping me informed only about relevant issues related to '_irregularities_' within the Prosecutor's office, the police's department... and acquaintances... such as... Wright, as a casual example." his voice was neutral, and probably nobody could perceive the slight tremble he fought against to control in the last second. Afraid of being quite obvious, he explained himself: "It would be a very unpleasant situation if we have to experience the same problems we faced in the Hazakura case..."

"Oh, sure, Sir. Count on me!"

"Very well".

"I will miss you, Sir" the Detective shed a tear; he was barely restraining. Surprised at first, Edgeworth felt the uncomfortable situation, and without knowing what to do, or how to answer that, simply allowed a dry _hmph_ to be exhaled.

"Thank you for your services Detective, and be well."

"Yes, Sir."

With his arms crossed over his chest, Edgeworth stared at the detective for a while, until the man was aware that it was a hint for leaving the office.

Once alone, Edgeworth looked at his framed jacket one more time.

He was not meant to live several things.

Tired of the circular thought, he took his briefcase, locked up his office and, giving his own door a last look, abandoned the prosecution's offices.

* * *

He entered his apartment and smiled when he heard the energetic sound of her paws. Pesu ran into him, as usual, and jumped around him, overwhelmed by the emotion of his master's return, earlier than she was used to.

The ritual was the same. He knelt, hugged her and she jumped to him, licking his cheeks or neck, and softly biting the bridge of his nose. She was all he needed after a long day of work, after a case with plenty of loose ends, after too many and useless sensations.

Her joy and her scent smoothed his mood instantly.

He lifted her from the ground and both of them went to the room. Aside from the bed, the equipment, suitcase over suitcase, was completely organized; he had arranged it two days ago, and only the pet carrier over them was not ready.

He left Pesu over his bed and took off his jacket, shoes and cravat; he put his mobile, wristwatch and prosecutor's badge on his bedside table. Without performing his usual ritual, he just threw himself on the bed with his arms extended. The position made his back feel more rested, and at least, that was pleasant. A playful squeak called his attention to the dog, who was hiding her snout in his neck; he could feel the wet cold nose and the eucalyptus fragrance from her fur. He did not smile and rested his hand over her belly, scratching it tenderly.

He needed to wait ten more hours for his flight. He had all the arrangements planned beforehand in order to spend his last hours in the country with _that man_, in some quiet coffee shop, listening to him, laughing with him and at him, feeling how foolish _that man_ could be...

Once again, the image of those hands playing with the bracelet appeared in his mind. Those damn hands.

He turned his head to the bedside table and observed his phone. He did not realize how much time he had looked at it while he was still remembering. Just the small lick of Pesu on his cheek made him return to reality.

He moved her, and put her head over his chest, petting her in all the places she fancied.

One more time, he looked at the phone, until the badge got his attention. The image of the Iron Infant shined in his mind.

He was not allowed to live certain things. He knew it, but he kept repeating it to himself.

Understanding what it means to be a prosecutor, was a matter he dealt with for a long time, but in the end, he found his own personal answers; and they were meaningful. However, understanding deeper matters, such as human nature, were always a confusing issue for him; he could spend hours in thinking why humans had to manage with useless emotions. Motivation, twisted feelings, depravity, bonds and the wide range of hatred and kindness. What was the lasting reward within those? After all, all of them were quite ephemeral. Ephemeral and chaotic. But why?. Why had humans evolved into beings of such complexity unable to be classified, unable to entirely understand their nature in the most logical sense?.

Emotions. They were always an utter nonsense. So unnecessary. And also so dangerous. A faint memory of Von Karma loomed in his mind.

He sighed while patting on Pesu's back. The dog lift her head and looked at her master, licking his cheek one more time.

"My Lady, why cannot we be more like you?, so free of saddling with... useless things"

Edgeworth straightened Pesu's cravat, and cupped her head with both hands, moving his thumbs. The monotonous movement relaxed the dog to the point of closing her eyes and exhaling a groan.

"I-I envy you, my Lady".

Suddenly, his mobile rang. _Him._ It was probably _him._ It must have been _him._ Sitting straight on the edge of the bed, he cleared his throat and finally took the call. A monotonous recorded voice informed him about an unexpected change in his flight. It was changed to another one that would take off in forty-eight hours.

Two days. It was an opportunity he should not allow himself to waste.

He took his briefcase and looked for the paper agenda. It was a unique traditional agenda for special numbers. And by special he meant... he never actually understood what he meant. Those people's numbers were that. Special in some way or another. Gumshoe's, Franziska's, Kay's personal numbers were there as well.

Waiting for her master to be laid again over the bed in order to make herself comfortable on his chest, Pesu was sat in the middle, wagging her tail continuously.

At the edge of the bed, he opened the agenda in the page where Wright's number was, and read it several times. He took again his mobile and looked at it. Whatever he was going to do, it had been stopped. He frowned and put the agenda and the mobile aside.

"I can't believe myself. I'm not a teenager going to call..." He stopped himself one more time. Putting a hand over his face, he sighed. He was not allowed to such childish behaviour.

What he needed was, indeed, a way to relax himself. So he went to the living room and took a glass and a bottle of whisky from his mini-bar. Some drinks would not harm. He poured a glass and sat in the sofa. The movement was not missed by Pesu, who run from the bedroom into him. The sound of her paws on the floor always made Edgeworth smile, even more when, by looking at her, he could see the extra effort that she used to put in order to run on such slippery floor. Without hesitation, Pesu jumped onto the sofa and quickly sat at his side, placing her head on his thighs.

"Hmph, perhaps we should watch a few episodes. What do you think, my Lady?". Pesu wagged her tail extremely fast.

Edgeworth took the remote control and by navigating through the menu options chose the fourth season, episodes forty-seven to sixty. He actually wanted a good marathon. Then, he only pressed play.

The samurai had been poisoned and the Pink Princess, as an interesting case of reverse gender role, was in charge of rescuing him. Exactly as he remembered. At some point, the glasses he forgot to put on started to make blurry not only the image of the samurai, but also the Princess' and even the Evil Magistrate's. For first time, he noticed the magatama that was around Pink Princess' neck. Wait, was it the Princess?. He felt a chill: that nonsensical stone.

He needed a bit of enlightenment, so he drank two more glasses.

He would spend the whole afternoon and part of the night looking for courage in Pesu, in the drinks and in the samurai, and everything would be well. What could possibly go wrong?.

* * *

Phoenix was rubbing his cheek and pressing Maya's handkerchief over his bleeding nose, while Maya and Pearl were arguing about Phoenix's rights to see women. They had visited Iris in the prison and little Pearl could not resist to apply her own corrective over the disrespectful man, who had behaved like a fool in front of her future girlfriend.

"Ugh. Pearly, you have to stop doing that. Look at poor Nick."

"He disrespected Mystic Maya. How could he... Iris is your family too."

"Now, Now..." Phoenix said in a nasal voice "why don't we go to eat some noodles and let it go, Pearly?"

For a short moment, Pearl pouted, until her gesture was replaced by a shamed one. Playfully, he just laughed at the little girl and patted on her back to cheer her up. Reluctant at first, Pearl looked at him from time to time, and noticing the bloody handkerchief her guilty feeling increased even more.

"Say no more, let's go to Eldoon's" added Phoenix heartily.

Maya jumped, yelling about something related to meals and soups. When her overwhelming joy reached a standard level, she spoke, pleased. "I'm very happy for Iris..."

"Yeah, it was good Edgeworth managed to find that trick" Phoenix smiled wide.

"Aww, we didn't see him in the last part of the trial. I'm sorry for not being with you guys, at the celebration party. Pearly and I had to manage with some things in the Village..."

"Is everything okay there?"

"Yeah, a few spirits are possessing some of the students from time to time, but nothing to worry about...". Phoenix frowned and slowly turned his face to Maya. _What did she just say?_. "By the way... why not invite Edgeworth to this noodle thing, right now?. I want to thank him for all he did for Iris. He can go abroad at any moment, for what we know about him"

"Ah... don't worry about that. Besides... I doubt he would find the meal 'enjoyable'... because of his taste, you know."

"But what are you saying, Nick?. Meals are all about who you are eating with."

_Yeah. To another judge with that gavel, Maya... you eat ramen no matter who's with you._

However, on second thoughts, Phoenix could not avoid showing a wide smile as a result from that phrase, but in the end, it could not suit the prosecutor. Edgeworth was just... Edgeworth, after all.

"Don't worry, Maya. He told me he'd call me back when he's about to leave the country..."

"Yeah, sure, like always..." Maya said with a little disbelief in her tone.

Phoenix elbowed her, thinking that maybe Maya could be right, but not wanting to believe it. People change, and as everyone else, Edgeworth also had changed.

Walking behind them, Pearl was pleased with the small war of elbows, pats and soft shoves that those two shared while they were talking.

When they reached the stand of noodles, they ate their salty ration, as they talked about what had happened in Kurain village. Maya finally got to be the leader of the clan, and needed to train arduously, more than ever. She did not seem totally happy for that, but she did not complain either. After all, somehow, she always knew the Fey line's leadership would end on her shoulders.

Upon finishing the meal, they kept talking for a while, enjoying the company and the familiar smell of soup.

Over the table, completely exhausted, Pearl was sleeping on her own arms. Maya nudged Phoenix's ribs, so both of them smiled at the tired girl. Carefully, Maya lifted Pearl and held her in her arms. His office had an extra room with a small bed, so Phoenix offered them to sleep in there. Considering they had already lost the last train to Kurain, Maya could not help but accept the offer happily.

They walked the little distance that separated the noodle stand with Phoenix's office, enjoying the calm night. The sky was clear, allowing the stars to become more visible than usual, and the feeble moon far away, upon their heads, gave them a dimmed nostalgic feeling. A chill breeze was blowing from time to time, waving some of Maya's locks over her face.

When they arrived to the office, Maya left Pearl in the room, and returned to Phoenix, who was resting on the sofa, waiting for her with a hot mug of tea made by the water heater.

Maya sat by his side, exhaling a loud sigh, and then looked at him, realizing the weird smile Phoenix had in his face while he was gazing into his tea.

"What's up?"

"Oh, nothing... I wanted to know how you were doing, Maya."

"Oh, that. Don't worry."

He offered the mug to her, and both of them remained in silence, listening to the sips and the clock hanged on the wall, close to the window.

Phoenix did not push. He knew he did not require that kind of methods when it was Maya. She only needed to relax a bit, and then...

"You know, Nick. I thought I would be worse... I mean... after so many years... Now she is with my Sis." Maya smiled at his tea, restraining the progressive dampness in her eyes.

Looking at such image, Phoenix left his mug on the table and without hesitation, hugged her. Feeling the friendly arms around her, Maya hold her own mug among her knees, and squeezed Phoenix back, setting free the tears she had not been allowed to shred when she knew her mother had been murdered, same as her dear sister.

The Fey family had developed a lonely path, always fed by many withered, old and forgotten things. Calling the dead with lack of peaceful rest was a double edged knife. The chance to put uncompleted things to an end for those who were long gone could be not a good idea after all. The contact always forced the return of the grief on those who were still alive, by reopening their wounds with each channelling.

However, the Fey family was not all about those who were gone. It was also about intrigues and plots, about plans and arranged marriages, power and control. The inner fight was one of the two faces that Fey's heritage had to reconcile. The other one was related to the public image of her family. The knowledge which many Fey family members wanted with wild desire, was also the cause of discredit among those who were unaware of the spiritual world. The fame of her heritage had decreased over time, many errors had been made, and fixing them all frightened Maya to the deepest part of her being.

Pearl would probably be the only person among her family she would trust blindly. The others were gone.

She could never avoid the strange feeling of perceiving the irony of her own life. Fey family's technique was just a lonely path, made out of dead people for calling them back. Even their own members end up increasing its length. Their heritage was a considerable weight for just accepting it fearlessly.

Phoenix rubbed her back in circles, pressing his own temple on Maya's head at the same time he was trying to encourage her to cry as much as she needed.

"It's okay, Maya. You can always count on me for this"

The sobbing intensified a bit more, as Maya's hands gripped Phoenix's suit, crumpling it.

Shortly after Maya collected herself, she drew back a bit, taking distance from his friend, still rubbing her eyes from time to time. Gently, Phoenix leant towards her, and kissed her forehead as he was scratching her nape behind her long hair. She smiled and sniffed.

"Hey, Nick. What a shame..." Her eyes were swollen and red, and they felt tight.

"It's okay", he smiled back.

"I need to wash my face", she said and stood up in a movement. She had forgotten the mug among her knees, so it fell over her feet. The hot water burned her skin, being impossible to restrain her squeak, as she jumped onto the sofa. The turmoil made Pearl awaken, who peered at the scene from the door. As soon as she looked at Maya's swollen face, she opened wide the door and glowered at Phoenix.

The time had been stopped for all of them, expecting the next movement Pearl was going to make in order to attack or flee. Slowly, the little girl rolled up her sleeves without losing Phoenix of her sight.

"No, Pearly... wait... wait, no. It's not what it looks like!" Phoenix screamed and jumped over the sofa's backrest, panicked due to the ferocity on Pearl's gesture. Maya started to laugh loudly, while she was grabbing Pearl's outfit to stop her.

And at last after a long time, she felt relief.

* * *

He was exhausted but happy. Those noodles with Maya and Pearl had cheered him up. Still thinking in the terrorising gaze that Pearl had given him, he unlocked his own apartment's door. The studio flat was dark, and the only light he could see was the one coming from the street through his opened window. He always liked to let the wind run through the room.

He moved the small table aside and took a futon from his closet, which he placed in the middle of the room. After taking his suit off and folding it carefully, he took a shower. There was nothing more he could wish at that moment.

He was happy. Fresh, a little wet, cheerful and peacefully tired.

He took a beer from his small fridge and sat in the floor, close to the window. Wearing only his underwear, he could perceive the breeze cooling his whole body, giving him an invigorating sensation.

Happiness. That was all. Maya's relief, Pearl's energy, a promising future with Iris... another outcome could not be better.

When he sipped the beer, the Steel Samurai theme resounded through the room.

"Phoenix Wright here" he said on the phone, resting his elbow on the small balcony on the window.

"Wright..."

"Edgeworth? What's up? Strange time for a call..."

"I know. But. I needed to ask you about a very, very, very, veeeery important thing. You know.". His voice was clear and only sometimes, a trace of slurring was noticeable.

"Um. I guess you can... Is it me or do you sound weird?"

"Do you think the Princess is hot? I mean... did you see that retina-searing pink outfit?. Why do you like her... Wright?"

"Mn... I'm not into that kind of thing. Wait... I can't believe this but, are you smashed?"

"Smashing. That is what that samurai did to me. He is hot."

Phoenix choked with his beer and laughed amused.

"My, Edgeworth... what the hell happened to you? I've never heard you... this way". _But I won't deny I would pay for seeing you right now._

"What happened? You said?... My palanquin will take two days to come. And the Evil Magistrate cut my cravat..." Phoenix shook his head smiling at the hilarious situation. "Did you know? Magistrate saw them, touching each other... and they will have many infants... of metal. That's a heavy task. You know. Heavy metal. Probably lead or mercury. I would like to suggest them not to... they are toxic."

"You make no sense, but anyway, I will just follow your lead. Who is this Magistrate?"

"He is sooooo annoying... pal this, pal that. I know he knows what I know: the samurai has blood. Blood is important, you know. It comes from the heart. "

"Wait... pal?. You mean Gumshoe?"

"I don't like her taste in clothes... why that pinkish thing? Ack... and the stone." he continued his babbling without answering his doubts.

_Says the man wearing __the shady outfit__._ Phoenix thought as sipping his beer.

After a short pause on the phone, Phoenix could hear some low groans. He frowned for a moment in order to focus and guess what was going on.

"Oh. Um. Ngh. Let me talk, you. Oh, that was unexpected..."

"Uh... what's happening, Edgeworth?"

"I think I woke her up... and she is kissing me..."

"Eh?"

Phoenix stopped drinking his beer can half-way. The mental image of Edgeworth with somebody else surprised him. In fact, more than he expected. His smile frost in his face in an awkward way.  
_I would really pay for seeing that_.  
Or maybe, on second thoughts... it would be better not to.

"She always liked me as I am. She's the only one. You know, I know I'm... not likeable, but she doesn't care. She doesn't complain on me watching samurai... for talking about him... That _man._ She thinks he is hot too. With that hair..."

"Steel samurai has no hair. It's made of metal." corrected Phoenix.

"He has, he just uses gel."

"Edgeworth, you make no sense at all... and that's totally amazing."

"Pesu said the same..."

"Pesu?" An empty blow hit his chest, and the can in his hand creaked due to the sudden tension in his fingers.

"My beloved one. She awaits me in my dark home. Loneliness is away with her by my side. And she hasn't that stupid stone. She also has a warm wet tongue. And she has blood... my blood."

"Uhm, wait, wait... I think it's a good time to go to sleep, Edgeworth... I'm not sure I want to find out whatever that means.."

"It means-"

"Stop." he interrupted the drunken man, with a clear command. "It's okay. I don't want the details, Edgeworth... after all, you will regret this tomorrow. Let's just go to sleep. Okay?."

"Very well."

"Good night, Edgeworth..."

"Wright... you have blood."

"Yes, I have. Take care."

"My blood..."

"I didn't kill you, Edgeworth. Just go to sleep."

Phoenix hung up, drank his beer a bit more, and looked at the sky. Something was set off in his mind. The hilarious situation made him laugh, but at the same time... something was definitely odd.

_Pesu?. That was a weird name. Well, look who says._

He could not avoid the mental image of Edgeworth laid in a bed... with a woman. It felt odd. Not because his friend was not able to do such a thing. He was a handsome man, and Phoenix did not doubt many women would be interested in him. The fact he could be interested in some woman was the oddity. _And why? _He didn't know.

Maybe...

He challenged his own mental structures, and also imagined Edgeworth in bed with a man. He coughed and drank a bit more. A sudden shiver made him aware of the fact that it was also odd. _Strangely_ odd, but odd anyway.

He shooed away the mental images. Probably it was some furtive idea about Edgeworth he had built over the years as a result of perceiving him as a completely absorbed person in prosecution matters.

Or maybe he just _did not want _to imagine him any other way.

And there they were again, those limits in his thoughts. Those playful lines that used to appear in his mind to put a stop to his questions. Some things were better left unasked.

He drank the last sip of beer and went to sleep.

Tomorrow those images would disappear from his mind.

_Words used by Simon were picked up from . _


	3. Chapter 3

Three in the morning, eighteen minutes, thirty-two seconds. He smoothed out the sleeve of the suit.

His flight had been delayed. Again. This time due to turbulence. _Hmph_.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and perceived the deep wrinkles in his frown, with the remnants of a headache. The remnants of dream-like images of a bloody Steel Samurai were still fresh in his mind. He hoped he had not done anything foolish the day before. _Hmph_.

He was sitting in a large zone with several monitors hanging from the ceiling, showing in their screens a long list of flight departures and arrivals. Part of his equipment was by his side: the suitcase, laptop, and pet carrier. Inside it, Pesu was laid down, licking his master's fingers whenever Edgeworth caressed her through the fine bars. However, he was not there; his mind was far away, thinking about the unspoken promise he gave to _him; _remembering that noisy afternoon in the coffee shop. He took the mobile and stared at it. Would it make any sense at all calling him at three o'clock in the morning? For what reason? Just to say _"I'm leaving the country"_?. That would upset _him_ even more. But why would he care now? Life had turned more pleasant for _him_ after those tough and lonely years past; and Edgeworth was glad for that.

However, his gladness was twisted in some way hard to define. He knew it. After all, when he almost called _him_ for an amiable meeting, Gumshoe's words had stopped him. As twisted as it could sound, he had not only denied the last meeting to both of them, but he had also lied to the detective. He would never be so careless to arrange his equipment at the last minute. Such attitude was irresponsible and it tended to add more stress to any trip.  
He could even have called _him_ the following day, when the flight got delayed; but he spent that time petting his dog in bed, watching the Steel Samurai and drinking to the point of not remembering anything.

Something secret and dark inside him had stopped his intentions.

In fact, it was _him_. Again. Over and over.

Meeting _him_ one more time, knowing that their blooming relationship was going ahead, understanding he was the only one that suggested it to _him_. Because it was appropriate, or maybe a way to put his sneaky thoughts to an end; or maybe it was just all the same. What he desired was always irrelevant. So irrelevant that even for himself the meaning of such behaviour was a complete mystery.

Deep inside him, he knew it was the best thing to do. Edgeworth would never forgive himself if he turned out to be the cause of making _him_ lose the only chance those two had to return to the point where _they_ had left off.

After all, _he_ had never overcome that relationship.

_Hmph_. _The right action to take. _

Edgeworth took his mobile and looked for a number in its agenda. A number that somehow, had migrated from the traditional agenda to the digital one. He let it be marked automatically and waited for a while.

"Prosecutor Franziska Von Karma speaking."

"Franziska."

"Mnn. Miles Edgeworth... have you a slight idea what hour is it here? If you called me to take part in other of your foolish theatrical scenes, it would be better for you to forget my number forever."

"No. It has nothing to do with another favour."

"Very well. So, this call must be about something related to that foolish lawyer." she spat out, getting straight to the point.

"Uh... no." he kept in silence for a moment.

"Hmph."

"I only wanted to inform you about my departure. I will be in Germany for a while, and probably from there, I shall move to Zheng Fa."

"I see. I can't image what that foolish lawyer did this time to force you into making such a journey..."

"Franziska, I've told you already. It has nothing-"

"Shut up, Miles Edgeworth." she interrupted him, rotundly. "I do not need your foolish explanations. Moreover, I'm dealing with extremely delicate issues right now to waste my time dealing with your... foolishness. But I will inform you when I'm going to Zheng Fa."

"That's the inconvenient. When I'm there, I will have to block my personal number. I will be isolated for a brief amount of time."

"Hmph? Playing with Interpol, I see. Very well, Miles Edgeworth, I believe we will see each other sooner than we expected to. Now, I need to go."

"I hope we shall see us soon." he said in a polite tone.

"I hope not. It would mean I should deal with more foolishness than I can bear..." she sighed and hung up.

He looked at the mobile and shook his head slowly. It had been unwise to call her in the middle of her resting time, though she sounded very awake for him.

A little squeak got his attention. Head tilted, Pesu stared at him, but there was a bit of solemnity in her gesture.

"My Lady, are you also ordering me?" She manifested a little grunt and wagged her tail. "Hmph, I believe I'm weakened by your desires as well"

Edgeworth smiled, sought out a leash from inside his suitcase, and took Pesu out from the carrier. Although she was limited by the extension of the leash, she could walk and move a bit, stretching her paws.

A new general announcement in the whole area informed him the flight would be delayed for two more hours. A disappointing murmur arose through the whole airport.

After several movements around her master, Pesu sat in front of him, between his legs, and rested her snout over his thigh. He was pretending to look at her in a severe position, while Pesu was catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye, moving her tail twice each time both of them crossed their looks. The sneaky and also naïve attitude of the little dog made him chuckle.

"You are such a cheat". She growled again, jumped into him, and hugged his hip with her paws. Edgeworth could not help but caress her head.

"I don't know when will I learn to be like you", he murmured as long he leant over the dog to hide his face from the rest of people in the airport. He did not want to show he was talking to a dog.

"Do you think I did well?, Or should I call _him_ and congratulate _him_ about what _he_ did?." he stopped his own words, thinking one more time. "My lady, what do you think about your master?"

She only licked Edgeworth's hands and waited quietly, enjoying the long session of endless caresses the prosecutor gave her in order to reach some peace of mind.

* * *

She was in the main room still wearing her nightgown. She scratched her head and passed her fingers through her hair. The phone call did not awake her, but it forced her to keep thinking. She stood up from the sofa and went to the kitchen where she prepared hot water for a tea. Sitting in the table, she rested her chin on one hand, still looking at the tea. A slight frown was getting more visible as the minutes were passing by.

She already had several concerns to add a new one related to her little brother. _Such a brat_. She never had to listen to all his foolish verbosity; because his long and complicated explanations were nothing comparing with all she could understand by just looking at him. Now they were older, only listening a bit was enough for her to perceive the big picture. After all, it was for a reason she always called him little brother.

_Foolish man_.

A pair of hands touched her shoulders and squeezed them, then they slid to her neck just to end into a hug. A pair of sensual lips kissed her behind her ear.

Franziska chuckled, softening her frown, and ran her fingers over the arms around her.

"Were you awake all this time?" those lips asked with a slight tone of concern.

"I was studying the case until... hmph. Until my foolish brother called".

"Mr Edgeworth? Is he okay?"

"Hmph. He is Miles Edgeworth... he never is okay."

The woman behind Franziska chuckled as her arms slid away. The scent of the tea brought in her an intense craving for a cup. Calmly, she made one with the leftovers of hot water and moved a chair to sit by Franziska's side.

Chair against chair, shoulder against shoulder. So close.

Franziska had stared at her all that time, silent, amused, smirking with her chin still on her hand.

"Wait for me. I need them." the woman said.

She went out of the kitchen and returned after a short time, wearing her glasses.

When the woman sat by her side, Franziska caressed the blond hair with her free hand. She took several locks, lifted them in the air, and then let them slip among her fingers. Over and Over. She fancied that hair and the effect that her own touch had on that woman.

"So... what did he say? You seem concerned, Franzy".

"He just spoke foolish nonsense. And he will be working for Interpol soon..."

The smile on Franziska's face disappeared, as well as her touch on the other woman's hair. She sat upright in the chair and drank the tea with her eyes fixed in some lost point on the table, but she never lowered her chin, as usual.

"Oh. You should not worry-"

"Adrian... you know very well how much I hate losing."

"But Interpol is not like a trial... He is not even-"

"I'm not talking about that."

Adrian sipped her tea and leant against Franziska's shoulder in silence.

"I see. Were you thinking about what we talked last night?"

"Perhaps..." Franziska said, drinking the last remnants of tea. Then, she crossed her legs and put an arm over the back of Adrian's seat. With her free hand, she caressed the other woman's chin, looking into her eyes.

"I really want this..." Adrian said.

"And I will not interfere with that. What a woman demands must be satisfied."

Adrian smirked and finished her tea. "Can I demand you in bed now?."

Franziska chuckled. "Always."

She lent over her, and cupping Adrian's cheek, devoured her mouth.

* * *

He could still remember that day, even if he did not know why. Probably it was due to some whimsical remembrance, which the mind is reluctant to leave behind, but have no meaning at all.

It was autumn, and he was in the main room of the mansion. He had spent the whole afternoon waiting for them to come. He was grabbing in his hands the note with the great news: the school was calling his parents to congratulate his son on what a great voice he had. A voice with a smooth tune, even for a kid. The note also said they should pay attention to their son's voice due to the closeness of the adolescence, which could put his peculiar tone in danger.

Klavier was so excited. After many years of an empty sensation growing inside his soul, he had something to offer; a gesture of something more than those shallow smiles.

When the mansion's door was opened, he widened his smile, waiting for his parents to appear; but despite his expectations, his brother was the one who showed up through the door.

"Good Afternoon, Klavier. It's unexpected to see you here. You usually are with your friends, are you not?"

"I know. But..." his words stopped at the mental image of several companions he had in the school. They were fine, they used to play with him, running or chatting sometimes about football or TV shows that Klavier had started to watch just to have something to talk about. But they weren't friends. Not friends in the same way that many songs taught him they should be.

There was not such a sentiment of trust, not even complicit smiles or inner jokes. Just TV shows and some talks about homework.

Curious because of Klavier's silence, Kristoph left his school bag near the sofa and leant over his brother.

"What do you have in there?". He took the paper from Klavier's hands and read it in silence. "This is interesting...". Klavier smiled and his eyes brightened. "...but Klavier, you should know this is useless. There is more future in law than in music. I'm not saying you lack ability for this, but... be realistic, dear brother, you could do more as a lawyer. After all, we are a renowned family, we have a name and a reputation to maintain".

Kristoph smiled once again, closing his eyes, showing sweetness in a twisted way. He left the paper over the table, and caressed his brother's head. "You can do anything you want... but be smart. Don't waste your life in empty dreams".

The bigger brother took again his school bag and went to his room upstairs, after a long day of studies.

It was his last year of school and the next one he would enter to a renowned German university.

Klavier had wiped the smile off his face and remained silent, sat on the sofa, still waiting for his parents to come. Maybe a little spark of hope was forcing him to keep doing what he planned. The hours were ticking away in the dark living room as the sun hid.

Once again the door was opened. Even when his smile was a little more withered than before, he forced himself to smile. It was his father.

The man entered the house with quick steps, throwing his briefcase aside from the sofa; and after greeting his little son, he went to the bathroom, taking part of his suit off midway. Patiently, Klavier waited for his father to go out, freshened up and wearing his pyjamas. But instead of asking him about dinner, about him, about something, he just left towards his bedroom, murmuring something about being too tired for eating.

Klavier remained in his spot, waiting anyway. There was still one more person to come.

After one hour of thinking and reading the paper he had in his hands over and over, the door was opened for the last time.

His mother entered exhaling a deep sigh. Taking her shoes off and looking at her husband's briefcase by the sofa, she asked him straight. "Sweetie, what are you doing over there?" she said, removing her jacket. However, before a word could come out from Klavier's mouth, she interrupted him with a tired smile "where is your father? And your brother?"

"Kris is in his room. Dad just went to sleep. He said he was tired"

"Oh, I see. It was a hard day, you know?. Did you eat?".

He shook his head smoothly, looking at the paper in his hands.

After another sigh, she rotated her head in a slow circle, doing several strong sounds that gave her relief. Then, she took the phone and asked for some currywurst delivery before taking a shower.

The bell rang and the meal came right on time, when his mother was done with her bath.

Klavier placed the package in the table and took several dishes, waiting for her mother before serving. Seated by his side, she put her part in a dish, and ate it while she observed her little son serving his portion. Unfortunately, Klavier had been so slow, that she finished her meal before his dish was half empty.

Eating alone used to inspire sadness in him, so she drank a beer aside from her son despite her tiredness, accompanying him during his dinner. She did not want to make him feel alone, but she knew most of the time her children actually were.

After each sip from the can, she perceived a new change in Klavier's features: his hair was a bit longer, his nose had taken almost her own shape, his light eyes looked like those that made her fall in love with her husband, those delicate hands were like Kristoph's. Her little boy was growing up like his brother, so prideful and beautiful.

But not all those shapes or gestures resembled someone else. Klavier had many unique things that were his own mark, and one of them was that heavenly smile.

"Sweetie, how are you doing in school?" she said, caressing Klavier's head. He looked at her, still chewing a piece of meat.

"Fine." He wanted to show her the note before speaking more about the great news concerning his voice.

She cupped Klavier's face with her hand and looked straight at him.

"Then you should smile more. You should share that beautiful smile, you know? _It's the best one in this world_."

That simple phrase dug deeply in him. That had been the deepest thing he had heard in the whole day, and also the warmest.

Maybe he did not need his voice after all. Maybe just a simple smile was enough. Then he smiled from his guts, feeling himself shiny. His mother smiled back at him.

"That's my boy. Look at you, so beautiful. I love you, sweetie" she gave him a tender kiss on his forehead.

He finished his dish, and his mother left the kitchen.

Then, the last sound in the night was heard: the hoarse noise of his parent's door closed behind his mother, upstairs.

He put the dishes in the sink for Greta to wash them in the morning, and looked at the note on the living room table before turning the lights off.

He smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

The memories were still fresh, even though enough time had passed in order to wither them. However, its freshness did not mean the continuity of the same exact feelings, frozen over time. In fact, they had small differences that tainted the moment with oddity. Walking through the same streets, holding the same hand, looking at the same eyes. It resembled the past, but was mixed with new hopeful sentiments. The potentiality of all which had been left behind bloomed once again.

He could not help but feel confused since Iris was set free from prison.

A year had passed, and after some meetings, they finally agreed to take a new shot into their relationship; this time without Dahlia's shadows... or at least, that was what Phoenix thought.

He looked her profile as they were walking. An old emotion crossed his mind: a dim memory of Mia calling him a cry-baby. He smiled, nostalgic.

Both of them were going to the park, but this time without nothing to drink, to send by mail, or pending from his neck. This time was not autumn, and Iris had come from Hazakura Temple to visit him for a whole week in the City. They wanted to rebuild memories and deconstruct the past.

Resuming a relationship from the same point it was left off is a delicate task. It took hours of talking and discussions about past lies, masks and, of course, Dahlia. It was not going to be easy, but both of them had accepted the challenge. After all, there was no need to rush.

Having reached the bench, which was now older and its paint was almost gone, they sat still holding hands.

She caressed his cheek, remembering that silly student she had loved so much and appreciating the grown man she had never stopped to love. Phoenix turned his face to her and smiled. He was almost that silly boy again. Almost.

Of course some things had changed. Perhaps many. But she wanted to believe that all those continuous tries and all that waiting were part of the path in building what they could not before. She wanted to believe in what she saw into Phoenix's eyes, even if those eyes had turned a bit more withered and darker than before.

He surrounded her with an arm and looked away.

"Did you remember that moment?"

"Yes". She lowered her chin perceiving another small difference. Her Feenie used to be more affectionate. She still could remember how the young man used to seek shelter in her neck, rubbing his nose over her skin, playing with her hands to entangle their fingers. His scent, his warmth, that spiky hair. She blushed at the remembrance. Everything was the same, but at once, it was full of small hefty differences.

Phoenix looked at her for an instant and widened his smile. He could not help but feel slightly embarrassed as well. At some point, both of them were remembering those warm and naïve days.

"Have you ever painted the park?" she asked, tilting her head against Phoenix's shoulder.

"No, I couldn't. I was working so hard on my law studies..."

Observing those green trees at the distance, she touched her magatama. How many dark secrets may be hidden in those words?, She could not guess. After all, people were made of black locks.

She had no doubts that her Feenie had professed a deep and enthusiastic love to her when they were younger, but that was in the past. What about now?

She would seek it out.

Determined, she looked at him. Phoenix raised his eyebrows, trying to take a glimpse of what was flitting in Iris' mind when she leant over him, reducing the distance between their faces.

As a first reaction, Phoenix drew back a bit, though it was not enough to avoid the contact, and finally Iris reached his lips, biting them slow and fondly while caressing his cheeks. Her belly exploded into millions of butterflies that died in the same instant. The kiss had tensed him, and with such a simple gesture, the Truth had been found, for both of them.

Slowly, he broke the contact, ashamed. He needed a soft, tender word, something to thank her kindness while asking for forgiveness, and among the huge list that showed up in his mind, he found the brightest one: _Dollie_. His lips separated with the intent to say the word, but immediately restrained his tongue.

It had been clear enough for him that, after all, there was no way to return back in time.

"No, Iris, wait. This- this is no t...". Silenced, drawing an agonized smile, Iris just looked at him."I know I'm a terrible person for this... Iris.. but...Um...". He ran his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to do with the memory that a simple kiss had brought back.

"It's okay, Feenie. You'd already told me you were not totally sure about it anyway. I thank you for the chance, but it looks like it's not the same, as I thought"

"Did you already know?" Mysteriously, she chuckled and hugged him, now both of them more relaxed than before. "I'm really sorry, Iris. I shouldn't have listened to that stupid Edgeworth..."

"Mr. Edgeworth?" surprised, she drew back, resting a hand over her chest and barely touching her magatama with her fingers.

"Well, yes. He suggested me to... take back my relationship with you. I don't know why I trusted him. Just look at him, such a weirdo telling me that." both of them snickered.

"So, it looks like he's more of a caregiver than what he allows himself to show"

"Meh, I don't know. He already left the country without saying a word.". Phoenix crossed his arms over his chest and took a serious pose. He was a little upset. Well, maybe _very_ upset. Once again, the prosecutor disappeared without an explanation, even when they had agreed to some kind of appointment.

"He did?"

"He'd promised to give me a call before leaving... but... you see."

Iris squeezed her hands resting over her lap. She had a slight suspicion about what had happened with him.

"You should call him..."

"What for? Nah, Edgeworth was always this way. There is nothing to do. He is what he is. I thought he had changed too... but it seems I was wrong."

Phoenix lifted his chin and put his arms over the back of the bench. He leant all his weight over it and felt some relief through his back and shoulders. Solving the problem with Iris was almost like breathing fresh air again.

"Thank you, Feenie."

"Uh?"

"For all you've done, before my trial, and after it. This chance, this new life." She smiled.

He smiled back at her slyly, lowering his look to his extended legs, "It was fair, there is nothing to thank me for, believe me."

"Do you still like udon?"

Phoenix blinked twice, "Of course..."

"Let's go to your apartment then, but first let's buy the ingredients!"

Iris stood up in a cheerful jump and offered her hand to Phoenix with a sudden enthusiasm that surprised him.

He was not the only one relieved.

As Iris suggested, they went to Phoenix's apartment after some shopping, and cooked the most delicious udon Phoenix could wish for: Iris' tempura udon. As usual, he was in charge of cutting and washing all the vegetables and noodles, while Iris put all her attention on cooking the meal itself: the exact amount of ingredients, the cooking time and the fried shrimps she always used to add in a special way, putting her own mark in the dish.

He had missed those dishes. Made by _Dollie's_ hands.

Those meals that both of them used to enjoy time ago, at lazy Sundays, feeling the fresh autumn breeze coming through an open window.

Another memory showed up, but he forced it to disappear. The thought had brought many lost and bitter-sweet sensations along his skin.

"Feenie?"

Phoenix blinked several times, coming back into reality. Iris was by his side, preparing some tea while he was washing the dishes after dinner, so absent-minded that he even shut the tap and left his arms hanging on the sink's edge when he was done. His second reaction was smiling at her and then he scratched his head.

"What- what did you tell me?"

"Is something wrong, Feenie?"

"N-No. Not at all. I was... just... remembering. Don't worry, you know, silly things".

He helped her to carry a tray with teacups onto the small kotatsu, and they sat around it in the ground. The window, as usual, was wide open, and the night breeze was blowing, slowly moving the curtains and refreshing the living room.

Relaxed, they talked about senseless anecdotes from university and about the small apartment Phoenix used to have at that time. All that Dahlia did not touch; all those memories that were still old and warm for them.

"I can remember those letters you were always sending to Mr. Edgeworth." she said.

"Argh. It was... well. I'm sorry for that." he said scratching his nape. He almost could not remember a date without introducing an envelope into a nearby mailbox.

"It's okay, Feenie. It was funny. What do you think he did with those letters?"

"I don't know. I never asked him... but, I bet he threw them all into the trash."

"I don't think so."

"He was, after all, the Demon prosecutor... what other thing could he have done?" Phoenix sipped his tea, and after a long pause he continued, "It was so shocking to know what he had turned into. He had been so different as a kid."

"How so?" Iris leant her elbow to place it on the table and rested her chin on a fist.

"I don't know... wait."

He stood up and opened the closet nearby. Knelt before its doors, he messed up inside it, until he finally found a little box that he placed in the middle of the table.

It contained a bunch of photos: some of them showed a prideful, smiling Mia, that dampened Phoenix's eyes to the point of forcing him to clear his throat. Others were pictures with Maya, eating ramen in most of them. Many others were taken with Larry, as a young adult, with his current girlfriend at the time, a different one in every photo.

Finally, at the bottom of the box, Iris found several pictures of Edgeworth, Larry and Phoenix when they were in fourth grade. However, instead of observing them in detail; an unexpected figure caught her attention, focusing on a spiky haired lady drawing a smug smile on her face. That woman was wearing a sleeve-less shirt that let her sturdy body to be seen.

Phoenix chuckled when he saw Iris so surprised by that picture, and explained her immediately, "She is my Mom. Everyone makes that face when they see her for the first time."

Iris blushed instantly, blaming herself for being rude, and covered her mouth with both hands. "I really sorry, Feenie. I didn't mean..."

"It's okay. She is a surprising woman in many ways after all." he giggled.

"She seems strong."

"The hell she is. She is the smith of the town where I was born. Kind of. Actually, she is the only repair-all-stuff-person in the whole town. She is a technician, that's why there is nothing she can't repair. And if we ever need something metallic, she can do it with her hands, fire and a hammer." His eyes brightened as he was talking.

"I see. You never told me about your mother."

"Aww. It was just... we didn't have the chance, I guess."

"And what about your father?" Iris looked through the photos again, scattering them on the table in order to catch some man who could resemble Phoenix.

"I didn't know him. She was a single mother."

She stopped searching, and remained silent for a moment, studying Phoenix's gestures to understand beyond those simple words. Then, carefully, she asked, "Did you look for him?"

"No. All that I know is he just left Mom when he knew she was pregnant. Mom no longer knew about him after that. He left her without saying a word. He just did it." Phoenix swallowed bitterly, a slight frown went deeper over the talk. "I never really cared about him... I can't forgive him for abandoning my Mom without, at least, an explanation, or something. I don't know. That was unfair to her."

"I see. I'm sorry for asking..."

"It's okay..." he waved his hand in the air, like he was shooing the issue away.

"Does your mother still live in that town?"

"Yeah. From time to time I go visit her... but she is always so busy with the whole repairing issue there."

"I would be delighted to meet her. I'm sure she is a lovely person, considering her son."

Phoenix chuckled and rubbed his nape again, "Aww, don't say those things. But she really is amazing. We could probably go with Maya and Pearl and visit her for new year's eve. She would be really happy with so many girls around."

"Why?"

"You'd better not ask..." he said, shaking his head slowly, smiling almost in the same exact way of the lady in that photo.

Without knowing how to understand the answer, Iris turned back her attention to the scattered photos, and picked those that had the prosecutor in them.

"You haven't many photos of him."

"Yeah, after the incident I've told you about, you know, that time when his lunch money was stolen, we became friends. We spent so much time together... but only that year."

"Only that year? Why?"

"Yeah, Edgeworth..." He sipped the tea. "His father died, and he was... adopted by the infamous Von Karma. He went to Germany, but we didn't know about this at that time."

"Oh, that's terrible."

"Yeah... at first I was upset, Larry too. Edgeworth had just disappeared. When we went to his house, there was nobody there. We just found a guy crying, who used to work with Edgeworth's father. He told us he had moved out, but he didn't know where. He was really down, now I recall. Only when I defended Edgeworth, some years ago, I knew what had happened to him that time."

"You defended him?"

"Yes. Well... Long story short, Von Karma killed his father and wanted to frame him for that." Phoenix looked at his tea after a short sigh. "The person who raised him, forced him to be a prosecutor, instead of a defense attorney like his father, just to accomplish this... insane revenge. He turned into that evil prosecutor because of Von Karma. I had to defend him... No one would have done it."

"I see." Iris fixed her eyes on a picture, looking at the kid that Miles had been once.

"After defending me in school, I... He inspired me. I wanted to be like him, you know... or well, like what he wanted to be as an adult back when he was a kid. Things got pretty twisted, anyway." He chuckled, touching the border of the teacup. "But as you can see, he was different back then."

Iris looked at Phoenix with a puzzled face, and trying to give a second chance to his words, saw the pictures again, more focused this time. She could not see such difference which Phoenix was talking about. The kid in those pictures was serious, and the distance he took from both of his friends was small, but clear. What she could not overlook in almost all pictures was Phoenix's little eyes fixed in the boy wearing the bow tie. Phoenix never had his eyes far away from him, except in those pictures where he and Larry were fighting or playing. Maybe what Phoenix was talking about was, in fact, another thing, another small detail that photos were unable to capture. Probably it was something related to the past and memories, something too special and personal for her to perceive.

"What did you think when you knew he had turned into a prosecutor?. After all, he had inspired you. I remember you were so eager to take the bar exam."

"Well, not so eager. I hate studying. But when I'd read about him in the newspaper, I wanted to do something... he was not himself. I was sure of it. I was the only person who knew who he really was."

"It seems you did many things..." Iris said in her mysterious tone, touching with her free hand the magatama around her neck. Phoenix did not miss the gesture and raised his eyebrows. She smiled amused, then looked down to the photos.

"I would like to know how things would have been now, if his father were still alive..." he said.

"Probably you both would be working together..."

Phoenix chuckled "Working with Edgeworth..." his eyes fell over the few photos spread on the table. "That would be madness". He drank all the tea left in the teacup. "I bet you, he would be disappearing all the time..."

"Ow, Feenie. You said that was because his father had di-" She tried to make an excuse, but Phoenix interrupted her words.

"I do not know. He just disappears... Always." His eyes were tinged with bitterness, or maybe frustration.

"Does he? Has it happened many times?"

"Yeah... after our first trials..." he erased the smile on his face, and looked through the window. That feeling was always so disappointing. "he just vanished, and left a note... about his own death. I think I should be glad for that, it was the first time he left a word before disappearing". His lips twisted into a more bitter smile which lasted a couple of seconds. "It... It was a whole year believing he was... gone. After that time, he kept disappearing over and over. Well, this time we were supposed to talk before he went abroad. But apparently I will only see him after some years... like always."

Both of them remained silent. Phoenix was looking at the night sky through the window, while Iris put the photos back into the box.

"I still think you should call him."

"I don't know. Edgeworth is... Edgeworth".

He yawned, and stood up, collecting the teacups and putting them on the tray. It was time to sleep. Iris let Phoenix arrange the room while she returned the box into the closet and took her pyjamas from her bag.

As she went into the bathroom to change her clothes, Phoenix moved aside the table and leant it against a wall. He took the futon off the closet and arranged it in the middle of the room. Aside, he took some bedspreads he had for winter, covered them with a sheet and made a quasi-second-futon. It could not replace the comfort of a real one, but it would work for that night.

"Iris, use the futon yourself. We forgot to buy another one. I'm sorry." he said, laid over the blankets.

She looked at him surprised. "You don't want to share it with me?"

"Oh. It's not like that. I mean. I just don't want you to feel uncom-"

"Feenie, you never make me feel like that." She smiled, and got into the futon, lifting part of the blankets as an invitation. Phoenix rolled on the floor to her place, ending faced-down inside. "You see, there is a lot of space."

He turned around as Iris was still covering him. "Thank you. And... I'm sorry"

They were looking at each other from different pillows, enjoying the unique intimacy they had never experienced before. A true, deep and yet friendly intimacy. They could perceive their breathing while observing each other's face, lightened by the dim glow coming from the window. Iris bit her lower lip and her eyes got damp.

Phoenix knew it, so he looked at Iris' shoulder, averting her eyes, feeling a burning sensation in his own. There was nothing to do, just being there, and let the sadness cross through them both.

"Feenie. Do you think-" she said restraining her tears "I could... hug you?"

"Of course, come here". _Dollie_. He frowned imperceptibly, betrayed by his mind.

He extended his arms and surrounded her while he felt her hands pressing his back. Both of them shared a deep and fair hug. A hug filled with frustration but also, with a new meaning for them. A hug dampened with tears that slowly would clean their souls.

Without realizing how or when, both of them fell asleep, feeling each other's warmth.


	5. Chapter 5

He gave a quick look to his watch. He was seated on the bench's station, waiting for the train to come. He sighed in order to find some relief from his tired mind, arms hanging over the bench's restback.

The case in the morning had not only given him a lot of bad memories related to his phony self, but also many worries about the case itself.

People's personal information does not just disappear in the system. Blue Screens Inc. was supposed to develop small tasks related to the retrieval of a certain product in the net; not that kind of hack mastering, which could not be demonstrated.

The detective who was investigating the company, had been killed in the middle of her research, and her corpse was found in the park. It was a serious problem to identify the body, due to the lack of personal information in the data system. Thanks to her sister, the body was identified, but at the cost of being framed.

Tragic fate had also earned all those people who gathered information for the detective; they had disappeared from the data system as well. Due to some witnesses, they understood the detective was dealing with a case related to the sale of information, but where, why, how or whom... nobody knew.

His defendant, the detective's sister, had been framed in a very ingenious way. Impossible to track her sister identity on the data system, the case turned into a complete hole, without nothing about evidence and all about assumptions. Phoenix had gotten the not guilty verdict, as she was innocent, but the case itself remained full of holes. Seriously disturbing holes.

Slowly, he rotated his head and tilted it over a shoulder, releasing part of the tension in his neck.

The following day he would deal with a worse case, because he did not know almost anything about it. All he knew was something that a fellow lawyer told him in the corridors: his defendant was going to be a _magic man_, whatever it meant.

He looked at his watch again. The damn train was delayed.

He was hungry and tired; and even all those weird cases were still flitting in his mind, he could not stop thinking about a very punctual issue, which had been brought from the forgotten depths of his subconscious into the most painful awareness. It was something he did not know whether to be glad for such discovery – because always the sooner the better – or just hit his head against a wall until... well, until passing out and forgetting the issue completely.

He wanted to develop resignation at least, because, to tell the truth, there was nothing to do.

And it was all Iris' fault.

* * *

Since six months ago, Iris and Phoenix had been nurturing a reliable friendship for both of them. They enjoyed each other's presence, and talked often by phone. It was unbelievably rewarding all what they could share with just words.

However the problem started almost a month ago. He still could not remember how it happened exactly. They were talking by phone about the new system that sister Bikini wanted to apply in the Temple, when the topic changed into Phoenix's recent cases. The one he was dealing with at that moment was related to a small smuggling case at a local level. He was telling her the minor details of the case when he could not avoid an explicit critique on the prosecutor he was fighting against: Payne's cousin, called Willy Payne.

The man wore a pair of ridiculous glasses, long hair with loops, and had a cane which he used to throw at him during the trials or to hit the bench. He also had a bad habit of drinking coffee all the time. He was the summary of the worst memories that Phoenix could have about every prosecutor he had met along his career.

"He is so disturbing... and he makes no sense. He is all the time pointing at me, and annoying me about my hair." Phoenix said over the phone.

"You had faced many prosecutors, Feenie. I think he is not going to be a problem..."

"No, he is not a problem, of course. And I'm not a rookie anymore, you know, but it's so annoying. It's boring. He is not a challenge, you know."

"But Feenie, you are defending people, not looking for a challenge... or have your goals changed?"

"No. Of course not. Defending the innocent has always been my main goal, but... you know. I like people with the same purpose: more concentrated in finding the real culprit than in my hair-" he seethed, continuing in a softer tone. "Truth can be seen from different angles, and that's a challenge... something that this Payne guy is not... meh."

"I see, so there's nobody like that". Her tone was tinged with a fake certainty pretending to be unaware of the whole meaning behind Phoenix's words.

"No, there is. Edgeworth. He is always a challenge..." he said immediately, without even thinking. Iris smiled with certain smug expression in her face that Phoenix, obviously, did not see. "Considering all the prosecutors I've dealt with, he really makes me sweat... I mean, when he fingers me, I know I'm in trouble." Iris pressed her lips, blushing. "He is ruthless on the prosecutor's bench, he doesn't give you a break. He makes you reach your own limits and more. You should look at him when he is on trial, Iris".

"I already saw him, and I believe you, Feenie. Seems you have a strong... admiration for him too" she said finally.

"Well, yeah. I'm not going to deny it."

"And maybe more..." she used her mysterious tone, knowing Phoenix would not miss the detail.

"What?"

"You know, Feenie. Feelings can... change."

Squinting, Phoenix kept silent for a second, then said, "Mnn, I know that voice. What's going on?"

She chuckled amused. "We have been in touch all these past months, haven't we? I've listened to your stories in detail... and he is always in them... even when he is not in the country."

"Well... yeees. I guess I miss him, like I've said. He, as a prosecutor,... iiis..." Phoenix frowned immediately after a short sigh. "Hey! I know what you are saying!" Iris laughed. "It is not like that... believe me. I mean... he always was so inspiring, but that doesn't mean-" Iris laughed louder. "Hey! Don't make fun of me."

"I'm sorry Feenie, it's just..."

"Now, now, you've got it all wrong."

"Aww, my bad so..." she smiled, imagining Phoenix's eyes tenderly scolding her for this kind of amusement.

They talked about jokes for a while, and about being adult enough to understand themselves. Doubts were something people had to deal with as a teenager, but in the adulthood, time had to be used for choosing among all the options learnt when younger. Adults questioning themselves were a complete nonsense.

It was crystal clear for him. He had nothing to doubt about because he was a grown man.

But, to be fair, when Phoenix hung up the phone, that question dug into his mind.

He started to think about the past, remembering some forgotten emotions that made the small doubt grow even more. But everything seemed just fine. _It had to be fine._

That admiration had born after Edgeworth saved him from that unfair accusation in fourth grade. It was a totally normal emotion. Wishing to become an attorney due to that fact had nothing to do with some overwhelming feeling.

Something felt off when he ended that thought.

He rushed into his closet and took the photo box, spreading the pictures all over the floor. He looked at those in which Edgeworth and him were, and nothing seemed strange. His own eyes looking at him in many of those photos was a totally normal thing for someone who was professing such admiration. _Yes, nothing strange at all. _

While he was tidying up the pictures, he remembered the newspaper and the mixed feelings he had felt inside his belly when he knew Edgeworth had turned into a demon prosecutor. _Yes, probably that was slightly odd._

But it could still be considered normal when your most admired figure turns into a demon. The deep disappointment could have induced that kind of tickles in his belly. _Yes, that's it, for sure. _

They were the same kind of tickles he felt when he finally looked at that prosecutor for the first time in a trial. Being a rookie, with such amount of stress, and sweating an ocean. Of course he would have tickles in his belly!... _Yes, Everything was normal. _

The desperation for being accepted by him as his defense attorney had been normal too. No? _Right. It should be_.

Considering the context... _The. Context._

And the note... and the departure, _without saying a word_.

Phoenix put his hands on his face, seated on the floor, in front of the closet.

He had to surrender. He had to be completely sincere. He had to stop bluffing himself.

He extended his arms and lied on the floor, looking at the ceiling.

He could not believe it. He had to make sure of it by doing something more... _conclusive_. Something that could be... _decisive evidence_, as his friend Kristoph used to say.

But what could it be for this kind of situation?.

Once again, he sought inside the box, picking the one taken after solving the DL-6 case. It was the only picture he had of Edgeworth and him as adults.

He put the box back in the closet, and looked at it for a moment, as he closed the doors and smiled bitterly. _The closet_. The situation bothered him a bit. _Just a bit_.

He scrutinized the photo in silence, but it was late, and he needed to eat before thinking in more detail. The night would help him to contemplate the situation, after a light dinner and a beer at the flat's small balcony.

And so he did it.

With a hand holding a beer can and the photo in the other one, he started to feel guilty for being aware of what he was about to do with his friend's picture. Even more considering that friend was no one else but Edgeworth, who had such an unreachable, spotless image. An image he was going to... well, imagine in many situations that probably, would upset him to infinite levels.

However, the guilt did not stop him. The photo, showing an awkward and shy look, was in fact, very Edgeworth.

He was smiling at the picture, recalling some of the snobbish mannerisms that man had. Then, he remembered his scent; that strange perfume that Edgeworth used to wear; based on something like cherry and woods. It was a very peculiar and intoxicating scent. Even in the distance, it could be perceived.

How could he get to smell such aroma from that neck?.

He observed the picture, right in that spot.

It was hidden by that damn cravat. He had to undo it...

Phoenix swallowed.

Many things appeared in his mind at the same time. Alerts, desires, curiosity, guilt, and a simple word: _undo._

He went into the room and disposed of his futon. He lied over it still drinking the beer, looking at the picture put on the floor, illuminated by the light that was passing through the window.

How would Edgeworth's hair feel over his own cheeks? In... a kiss?.

Phoenix sighed and placed an arm over his eyes.

It was uneasy, dirty, yet unstoppable.

_Edgeworth would kill me if he finds out what I'm doing with his image... I can't believe this._

But he needed to test.

Those lips in the picture were hard to distinguish. He closed his eyes and reminded them so easily. Those thin lips curving into a smug and almost condescending smile, just about to tell him he was making no sense at all. As usual. As in that moment.

And he did it. He kissed Edgeworth, and breathed that perfume, making his whole skin crawl under his pyjamas. The scent was weak, so he undone the cravat for a better access... then inhaled close to the neck skin, feeling that warmth which turned into heat, forcing the veins to get a rhythmical pulse.

He wanted more. It was intoxicating. A heady, marvellous scent.

Phoenix bit his lips. He needed to know more, to see if he was right, really right, undeniably right.

He ran his fingers through the grey hair, but he could not perceive any sensation. He had never touched that hair. There was not even the slightest suspicion about how it would feel.

But he needed to know. _More. And now. _

Then he started the most challenging part; unbuttoning the suit, removing the jacket, lowering the trousers.

Slowly, inch by inch, being betrayed by a novice trembling of his hands.

He wanted to feel _his_ skin.

Unstoppable, guilty, eager, intoxicated. But needing more. _More._

His imagination ran wildly, to a point without return where he was unable to control neither his mind nor himself. The thoughts were as delightful as it was his highest point of pleasure, wetting the hand he did not know had sneaked into his pyjamas.

Guilty. So deeply guilty.

_Now he is going to kill me without second thoughts._

When he recovered from the slight daze, he went to the bathroom and took a shower. He needed a deep cleanse. Cleaning the guilt in his hands, the shame in his mind. He could not do such a thing with a childhood friend. Even less with him. A very stoic one. And the worse thing was that he had not only been _thinking_ about him.

_Oh, goodness, why this?._

_Why now?._

_Why him?._

He sighed under the warm water. At least, some part of the mystery had been solved, even though he did not understand which part. In fact, he did not understand much at all.

Nothing was clear any more.

* * *

That was the reason why he ended up calling Larry the following week. He needed a trusty person to talk with, and maybe ask him for an advice, or... something. Whatever he could offer would be good enough as long as it could give him some peace of mind. The nights had turned into a mist of guilt and pleasure, fear and curiosity, frustration and confusion. He was tired and ashamed.

Although the last case had been a success, he could not deny the images had leaked not only into his nights but also his days, intoxicating him even in the middle of trials. Every prosecutor he had faced in the last times had been not enough; thus his mind turned them into Edgeworths, standing in that bench, tapping his finger on their arm, fingering at him, smiling with such confidence and amused by his pitiful situation.

Even sometimes he confused those prosecutors to the point of calling them by Edgeworth's name, making the judge excuse him for it, considering how deeply he was missing his long-life rival.

His mind would explode if he did not vent it somehow.

That was the main reason why he was sitting in the coffee shop near his office on a Sunday morning, drinking a beer while he was waiting for Larry. He had already drank several cans, expecting to relax enough in order to not care about the ridiculous situation that was going to experience in the upcoming meeting.

But Phoenix had been waiting for him for more than two hours, when Larry appeared through the door. Heavily breathing, he took a place in the table. The man was enthusiastic as usual, but he was wearing an uncommon outfit for him: a blouse with a flowery pattern, trousers that fitted him as Bermuda shorts which had pleats at its sides and a flower made of sequins in the thighs, and a strange squared shoes with high heels.

"What the hell happened with you?." Phoenix asked without stop looking at his friend's outfit.

"You are not going to believe this. I almost diiie..." the man said lifting his arms in the air. "You are my best friend, Nick. Are you going to defend me if I get into trouble?" Larry leant over the table, closer to Wright.

"W-What?, Uh...w-wait.." Phoenix ran his fingers through his hair. "Explain from the beginning, I bet your outfit is related to all that"

Sat upright, Larry shook the blouse's sleeves slowly, as if he was entering into a kind of infatuated state. "Do you know Jazmine? She is a really nice girl. I was going to marry her and have beautiful kids... did you remember that night when I called you?"

"Yeees". Phoenix reflected in his face the sudden frustration he felt towards the thought. H_ow could I forget it. You just... screwed it all up._

"So, you remember I told you this girl was going to be the woman of my life?. She is an artist too. We are soul mates, dude. We are tied by the red thread, do you believe in it, Nick?." Phoenix only shook his head in silence. "We have so many things in common, you know, the other day we were-"

"Larry, wait, this woman... is the one you met last week?

"Yes"

"Oooh" Phoenix averted his gaze and touched his own forehead. Why it was always the same with this guy?.

"But, listen. This is terrible news, Nick. I don't know why I didn't know this before: she is married..."

"Yeah, what a surprise-" Phoenix said sarcastically "-but don't you think that's pretty usual in your last girlfriends?."

"No, dude... she is married, but we are destined to each other. The only problem is her husband. He almost kills me when he found me in bed doing-"

"Wait... I don't care. But what?. He found you in bed? Larry, seriously..."

"Yes, well, it was me who was in the bed..."

Phoenix squinted his friend while an awkward silence transpired. "Uhm. I know it's not my business... but... that declaration is odd, Larry."

"She was painting me... All my manly beauty, as natural as when I was born". Phoenix laughed. Finally. It all made sense. "Nick!, don't laugh at me. I had to run away naked through the whole neighbourhood. Well, then I got into a garden, and an old woman screamed at me and threw me these clothes... she was yelling I was a pervert and she was going to call the police, so I took what she gave me...and that's all. I've come here just in time."

Phoenix wiped out the small tears coming from the corner of his eyes, as the laughing got calmer. "So, this just happened right now?".

"Yeah, sure."

"Larry, just how can you manage to always get into some kind of disaster wherever you go?"

"I know, Nick. Nobody can resist my charm."

"I guess" he said dryly, in a tone that, of course, Larry missed.

"Well, that was all about me, now... What's up?. You wanted to talk about girls, didn't you?" Larry said lifting his thumb up while winking.

"Well.. uh... sort of-"

"Did you find a chick? Or you went back with Dahlia? Are you going to have kid?"

"No!. L-Larry. No. And she never was Dahlia, I've already told you."

"Bah, it's the same, Nick."

Phoenix rubbed his face with a palm. "And no. It's not Iris, nor any girl..."

"What is it then?". Larry never stopped smiling in his silly and mischievous way.

After a deep sigh, Phoenix looked straight into Larry's eyes. "Look, I need you to take this seriously, okay?. I don't need jokes, or stupid things, okay?" His voice was calm and slower than usual, making sure the other man was grasping the whole idea.

"Yeah, suuure! I'm your man!"

Phoenix leant over the table, drinking the beer until the waiter came with Larry's order. "I need a friend. Somebody to talk to... I really need this."

"Count on me! Spit it out."

"Okay. It's been like three weeks. I've been dealing with-" Phoenix stopped his words, and moved his hands in the air, as if he was looking for a right and easier expression "-a particular situation."

"That sounds like a chick is involved, Nick."

"No, it's not, I've already told you... Look, this is-". Then, Phoenix started to use a weird enumeration tone. "I spoke with Iris some weeks ago, and she said some things that were 'Oh'... so I've been thinking all this time... And now I've started to dream of those things... Um. _Things._.. well- "

"A lot of chicks!" Larry declared.

"Stop that Larry. There are no chicks at all..."

"What? You dreamt with a guy?!" Larry laughed openly until he saw Phoenix's face, which wasn't showing anything but amusement. "What?. Isn't it funny? Just imagine you and... oh. Oooh. Ooooooooooh." Larry averted his eyes.

"Don't freak out..." Phoenix whispered, working hard to swallow.

"No, sure. I won't... but... uh. What happened?. Did you sleep with a man?"

"Can you speak a little lower?" Phoenix leant even more on the table. "And no, I didn't. I'm a bit... I don't really know how to feel about this. I don't want this at my age all right, I have other things to do. And this is not fair for him either."

"Oooh, there is a boyfriend... who is it?"

"Uhm, no. He is not a boyfriend." Phoenix frowned in silence for a second, without moving his eyes from a lost point on the table. "Hell, no. No way. But I- I can't tell you..."

"Why?"

"I can't, Larry"

Larry crossed his arms, tilted his head, and rolled his eyes up, thinking who could be this man that had put his friend in such new personal discovery. He tried hard, but he only could think in the last twenty women he had met in those weeks, until the revelation seemed to be clear. A sole male specimen could be the answer. "Oh... no!. You too, Nick?!"

"W-What?" Phoenix's lips trembled.

"I knew it!" Larry said as Phoenix swallowed hardly, and tensed every muscle of his body. He could not avoid the deep surprise Larry gave him in being so sharp. Maybe art had induced in his friend other sides and abilities with endless potential. "It's me, isn't it?". _Maybe not_."My manly charm can't be held back, not even among men. I'm so sorry for this Nick."

"Uh?. W-What?. No!, you are not-" Phoenix had a forced smile on his face and few drops of sweat running down his temple.

"You don't need to deny it, Nick. I got it. I'm irresistible. I know, but I am also your friend, just don't touch my ass."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Larry! I don't care about your ass. I knew this was a mistake..." Phoenix grabbed his head with both hands over the table.

"Oww, Nick, c'mon. Be honest with yourself, it's okay. You know? I understand, I pushed you into question yourself... my manly performance the last times we met, those intense hours of looking at me in the witness' stand... I know, it was too much to resist... "

Phoenix squinted at Larry and drank half of his beer chop in a single shot. When he put it on the table and inhaled deeply to encourage himself, a woman with several police officers entered into the coffee shop.

At the moment Larry saw her, he fled to the kitchen and probably from there he would run away, using the back door.

At the sight of the woman, Phoenix let his head fall to his hands, expecting the inevitable approach. Wendy Oldbag had recognized him and nothing would help him when she reached him while the police ran after Larry.

That afternoon had been a living hell, and it had just begun.

* * *

He looked again his watch and rubbed his belly. The noises coming from there sounded painful. Or maybe it was the simple memory of that failed meeting with Larry. He knew nothing more about him since that day.

Probably, the artist was with another woman in a new relationship; because if he were in trouble, his mobile would've rung at the instant.

Finally, in the distance, he heard the strident sound of the train's whistle. He did not move from the bench until it arrived. After a while he stood up, narrowing his eyes in order to see through the ocean of people still walking around.

A tap over his shoulder got his attention at his side. There she was, wearing a pink and violet kimono longer than those she used to wear, and her hair was collected in a high knot, with some prolongations that resembled the Steel Samurai's metallic cords he had on his back. She also was wearing weird shaped sunglasses and extremely high getas. If she wanted to be unnoticed... she was doing it so wrong.

"Maya?."

"Hey, Nick! I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, my trial finished early enough for me to wait for you at the station. I didn't know it would take so much time."

"Yeah, that was bad. The train was late because somebody got sick inside it"

"Oh. That's pretty bad. But by now, let's go and grab some dinner, I'm starving." Phoenix said rubbing his belly.

They went out of the station and walked several streets, to the closest ramen restaurant.

"So" he said, looking at her from time to time while walking. "Why the change of your outfit?"

"Bah, it's about this thing of being leader of the clan. You know... fancy clothes, serious face, yadda yadda yadda."

"I see, and how's that going?"

"Well, actually, we are handling it pretty good. Pearl is helping me a lot, but she is strict. She is all the time telling me I should do more in some way, and less in the other. I think she should be the leader of the clan... but, anyway."

"And Pearly? Where is she?"

"If she calls you, just say to her you didn't know about me, okay?"

"Oh, that sounds pretty bad..."

"She wants me to take this thing too seriously. I mean, I'm serious and all that, but c'mon... I need to take a break!. I had to sneak out to come here!" she whispered with a hand over her lips, close to Phoenix, as if the secret could be heard by Pearl.

"So, you are doing just fine" he smiled at her, and she surrounded his arm with her own.

"Of course!. But I need holidays, like this."

They entered into the restaurant and ordered some ramen. While they were waiting for the dishes, she looked at him in a tender way.

"Hey, Nick... It had been ages since the last time we saw ourselves."

"Well... it was like six months ago, not ages... but yes. It was a while".

"You and your details... Speaking of which, what about my cousin? Are things working out between you two?. With all these things about being a leader and Pearly around, I can't find the time to call Iris and keep in touch."

"Oh. Well. That." Phoenix averted his gaze for a second.

"Ouch. I see" Maya said, keeping her smile in an awkward way. "You two broke up?"

"Well... kind of. We didn't even start anyway. I mean, we were talking about, how we were going to give it a shot, but things didn't work like before. We are friends though."

"So, that's good to know. I thought you broke her heart, and maybe you said a bunch stupid things, you know..."

He raised his eyebrows. "Thanks for the trust...I guess".

"Don't feel down. At some point... I think it's a good thing." she said looking upwards, and putting a finger on her chin.

"Why is that?"

"Because Pearly was going to be mad. She still... you know... I think she secretly is arranging our wedding."

"Oh my goodness..."

"I know... yeah. I need to talk to her... I thought after some years she would understand without explanation about our friendship... but it seems she doesn't want to get the idea..." as quick as her usual movements were, she hit her palm with her fist in the air when a sudden memory came up "Oh, now I recall...Nick, don't go to Kurain even if Pearly told you I'm dying or something like that..."

"What? Why? Eh?"

"I figured out her plan to do something like that, because if you are going to marry the clan leader, you need special training. Maybe she is gonna trick you to do that training without you knowing about it."

Phoenix blinked for a moment before talking. "I think it's a good time to talk to her, Maya"

"I know, I know... but... you know. I have to deal with other things. And now that Iris is not going to get killed by her... I can relax for some time".

"Kill? You said _kill_?"

"I don't know, Nick, Pearly is pretty scary when she thinks I'm not going to call you back or write you mail... or whatever. And there was this guy... the other day."

"Uh? Who?"

"He was just talking with me, he was some sort of historian guy, learning about Kurain Village and, by the end of the day, he lost his stomach after drinking the tea she poured him."

Phoenix stared at Maya, speechless, but she was just relating it like it was something natural... like, for example, all the students being possessed by random spirits. It was clear that the world where Maya lived in was a complete strange one comparing it with his own.

The waiter came up, and put the giant bowls of ramen in front of them. Maya smelt over the dish and exhaled a happy breath. She lifted her sleeves and took the chopsticks, followed by Phoenix who did the same with his own ration when, at the unison, both of his stomachs made a strong sound. They chuckled and after saying the grateful expression for the meal and started to eat the noodles in silence. Only when they were half done, they returned to the talk, speaking with their mouth partially filled with noodles.

"So, Nick. What's up?. Do you know something about Mr. Edgeworth?" - she asked remembering the last time both of them were eating in a similar situation.

"Well... I don't know".

"Ha." She snorted, eating the noodles she was pulling from the bowl with the chopsticks, without caring about eating or speaking at the same time. "Someone didn't call him when I told him to."

"Okay, you were right. Happy?"

"I've told you. I bet he needs more pushes, and parties, and ramen... all that tea he drinks probably affects his social life, always so serious, looking through the window, with that teacup over the small plate..."

Phoenix just looked at her in disbelief while he was listening to her babbling in silence. He already knew there was nothing to say that would change those weird ideas in her mind.

"So, you called me last night to talk about your grumpiness because Edgeworth didn't call you. Am I right?"

"I'm not grumpy."

"Well, then I don't know you... tell me about it when Edgeworth left that note-"

"Okay, okay" he interrupted her a bit annoyed. That time had been completely different and the mere thought of it was always a storm of mixed feelings, which were even worse considering his current confusing situation. "I was grumpy at that time. Now, I don't care...". He silenced himself and looked at her after a deep sigh. "I called you because... I need a friend, I need to talk about something... and Larry was a complete mess."

The sudden seriousness in Phoenix caught her whole attention. She ate her ration faster and when finished it, she crossed her arms over the table, looking straight at him. A deadly silent between both of them settled in.

"You know, Maya. You don't need to get so serious all of a sudden. It's pretty... strange... for you, that is."

"Aw, Nick,", she waved her hand in the air a couple of times, and looked at him with a mischievous gaze. "That's my new training acting up, pretending to be serious and so on, I'm sorry... Don't worry about it. Just tell me."

"Well, I think this is going to sound a bit cliché but... I'm discovering some sides of myself I've never thought-"

"Oh, is a girl related to that?" She interrupted him.

"Why are you asking the same thing than Larry?"

"I don't know. It felt that way."

"No. No girls related to it."

"Oh, then boys."

Phoenix frowned a bit. Was he so obvious?. He remained silent and finished his meal before the conversation would affect his appetite, then he explained himself, "Sort of..."

"Aw, well, don't worry about that, people change, you said so yourself." _Was she saying that on purpose? Just right after remembering their chat about Edgeworth?._ "If you are only into boys now..."

"No. It's not that way. I think... discovering a side of the coin, didn't null the other."

"Well, in that case, maybe you like more than just two... because you know, speaking of details, and you are sooo fond about details, there are more sides."

"More?, isn't it too much?" he said arching his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Says the man with his ladder pet peeve."

"That was a damn stepladder, Maya."

"Whatever."

Phoenix narrowed his eyes in a futile attempt to decipher her mysterious way of talking, but he would probably keep the information in mind, and would check it later on the internet. "Anyway-" he said as he leant over the table, closer to her "-the thing is, all this happened when I was speaking with Iris about some things. Then I thought many days about them... and, well-" he sighed frustrated.

"Why would you feel bad?"

"This is supposed to happen when you are a teenager. You know, I'm feeling pretty stupid for this. And for thinking of those things... with him." Phoenix bit his lower lip in a gesture of regret.

"Ooh.. so that's the problem." Maya folded both hands, and put her chin on them. "Don't worry about your age, maybe the next year you'll change again and find something new."

"I hope not. It's quite a discovery; living your life knowing some things were not meant for you, just because you never thought about them". Phoenix put his elbow on the table, and rested his cheek in his hand. His mood had turned opaque as long as he was thinking of the wide range of possibilities lost in time.

"Mn. You don't have to feel down. I think you should see the bright side. Look at you, you are young, you found this new thing about yourself. Explore it!." suddenly, her careless and free tone changed into a gossipy one. "So who is he?"

Maya was so obvious, she was dying inside to know the name. Phoenix could not help but feel a negligible burning all over his cheeks. It was hard to decide whether he was feeling ashamed for himself or for her and her unique, unsubtle way of asking. "I'd prefer not to say it. It's... um... quite embarrassing."

"Yeah, sure, I can see that on your face."

Phoenix sighed again and rubbed his nape, resigned to what had happened with him, his cheeks, his feelings, those constant thoughts and Edgeworth's image.

Resignation seemed to be the only and most wise option for him. "Maya... have you ever felt something like this in your life?"

"Yes." Phoenix stared at her immediately. "When I was ten I got it all clear... maybe it was because of the few men we used to have in Kurain."

"Wait. Are you saying... you?"

"I thought you already knew it, Nick. When we met Regina I remember being so clear." she looked upward, putting her hand over the corner of her lips. "And also Penny, and that girl we found in that Steel Samurai party event, and ..."

"I get the idea, Maya."

"So, yeah, when I was child I found myself liking them all... and even at the same time occasionally. People are made to love and be loved, you know. And there are so many ways to do that."

Maya smiled at him in a gesture that Phoenix could not help but recall Mia's smile in it. It took him a while to give her a smile in return; he was still hit by those words that were even more revealing than his own recent and personal discovery. He really needed to check some things on the internet when he came back to his apartment.

The waiter came and disposed of their bowls, taking a new order of tea, and went away. Then, Maya looked at Phoenix, who was silent, lost in his own mind.

"Hey, Nick... so, who is he?" She pushed him again, despite having a slight guess.

"I don't know if I want you to know... after all-"

"Yeah, Nick, you are such a tough guy." Phoenix did not miss the sarcastic tone. "I would never suspect anybody, not even considering the reason you turned into a lawyer, why you wrote those letters, how grumpy you were years ago when-"

"Okay, I get it. And I see you already got it too."

Maya laughed putting a hand over her mouth. "you do know you have chosen a really hard one, don't you?, Such a pity when there are so many others who are just waiting for you."

"What are you talking about?. Maya, please. D-don't... make things more confusing."

"But it's the truth. Edgeworth is a complicated person for this kind of things." and once again, with her eyes looking upward, she thought who-knows-what. "can you imagine Edgeworth hugging someone?" He immediately averted his gaze in silence, ashamed of himself. "But he is abroad, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is."

Maya could see the conflict inside of Phoenix. It was clear the problem was beyond the mere discovery; in fact, it was because it was that man and not another one. She felt sorry for him and tried to cheered him up. "What a taste, you got. You could like Mr Powers. He is adorable, and so amazing."

"Maya..." he sighed.

"What?. Aww Nick, I would like to do something for you." She stopped her words and widened her eyes, slapping the table with both hands. Phoenix jumped a bit frightened. "I know!, give me Edgeworth's number! I can call him"

"What?! NO!"

"Are you still grumpy with him because he left the country?"

"Well. A bit... but it's not just that. I-I really don't know what to do with this, Maya." he said resigned and sincere, resting his hands on the table. Maya did not hesitate to stretch her arms and hold Phoenix's hands between hers, smiling.

"Take your time, Nick, but don't waste too much of it. And you know, I can help you with whatever you need."

"Thank you, really. I guess you are right. I need time to think about this, and well, I should better get on with it the following week."

"Why?"

"I've had a pretty hard week and tomorrow I have to deal with a case I got no idea about so... let's do one thing at a time." Maya raised her eyebrows, expecting more details. "A client gave me the case yesterday. He needs to ask for the evidence to his former defense attorney, and he'll give it to me tomorrow... just a moment before going into the trial." he sighed deeply, and ran his fingers through his hair. "This is the first time I'm in such a rush. It's going to be tough, I can't deny it... even more when I have all these things in my head."

"That client seems pretty odd."

"He is... but, even though he wanted me to defend him only because I won a poker game against him last night; -_that_ is odd - he seems to be an honest man that needs my help. I can't let him down, you know. Oh, and he is a magician. That's all I know."

"Mn, take care with this case, Nick. I really would like to be by your side, but-".

He held Maya's hands with his own, and squeezed them.

"Thank you. But don't worry, after all, I will do my best. What could go wrong?"


	6. Chapter 6

Change was supposed to be a natural element in human life. For him, however, the only change he could perceive were the seasons: a fragment of a dry leaf on the ground, a white tear frozen in the window, a hot somnolence inside his whole body, a colourful landscape in the city's horizon. Nothing more, nothing less.

The house was always the same: quiet, empty and dark.

He used to spend all his time in the living room. It had big windows that showed him the most beautiful urban landscapes. It was like a painting, in permanent change though, contrasting with all that remained as the same home interior.

One of those never-changing things was Greta, the nanny his parents had hired. Every day she used to go to the mansion and make the meals for lunch and dinner. She tided up the whole residence, which never gave her too much work because it was in the same exact way almost all the time. That was thanks to Kristoph, who rarely was in another place of the mansion but his room, and Klavier, who only went to his own for sleeping, spending all his time in the living room.

Greta was also a diligent reporter each time their parents called home. It was always at the same time, on the same day of the week. She reported them the routine of both boys, and after several words of courtesy, she would hang up, giving a last look to the whole mansion, then just left them with a dry farewell in German. She never spent more time speaking with the boys, other than the strictly necessary: "did you do your homework?, did you have lunch?, have you got something to say that would be useful to inform your parents?". Just those three questions, repeated every week, thirty minutes before their parents called.

The other person inside the mansion was his own brother.

He was following the family's heritage and was studying law, as expected. It was his routine to be the whole day in his dark room, leant over a pile of books, lightened by only a small lamp on his desk when the sunshine coming from the window was not enough.

From time to time, his brother used to spend the night outside, doing _something _that he only could wonder about_._ Klavier never knew what his brother used to do at that time, or where; but it was a habit he had since forever.

Kristoph just disappeared the whole night, and was always found back in the kitchen, the following morning, having breakfast with that frozen smile on his face.

Only once he noticed a clear difference.

Certain morning, as usual, Klavier met his brother in the kitchen table, eating his breakfast after Greta had left the house. However, that time he was hiding half of his face with his loose hair, and his right hand was bandaged and stained with a large spot of blood. Every question about what had happened to him had ended in a tense silence coming from Kristoph, when he fixed his lost eyes on him.

When finished, as usual as every day, Kristoph locked himself in his room, despite the hastening in doing so.

Only the following day, both of them ate lunch as if nothing had happened, and the faint sensation of peace was restored.

The scar left in his hand and the covered face during the whole week never were explained, as well as his midnight walks. However, he stopped his nocturnal tolls right after the strange incident; even though Kristoph's behaviour never changed.

Every time he used to leave his room some minutes before lunch or dinner, he used to step into the living room, smiling like he always did, and look at his brother with a condescending gaze when he found him reading about music.

He never wasted a chance to reassure the Gavins' fame as defense attorneys when Klavier was around, making a clear emphasis in the uselessness of music. Those suggestions were always mentioned as a friendly and caring advice. A fond reminder that Klavier was free to choose whatever he desired to, as long as those choices matched certain expectations._ Kristoph's expectations._

Of course, Klavier always knew what his brother was doing. That confusing, yet firm message was the only thing he used to share with his little brother.

Advice affirming not only worry and respect, but also retaliation and shame in doing otherwise. The perfect technique to force people to do whatever Kristoph wanted, covering the trick with the fake sensation they were choosing freely.

He started to avoid his brother as much as he could and evaded the unchanging silent routine of the house with some sounds and rhythms. He found in music a clear and simple language that lacked layers and he believed it was completely fair at that time. Songs were more than just sounds, more than words sung in a complicated order. They were sensations and sentiments flowing in the air.

Music was speaking not only to him but also for him. Music was the tongue he hadn't gotten yet, it was the soul that was growing inside him, it was the constant change he could never see in the mansion.

Music had also told him that love existed, and it had been found at every corner of his life, waiting for him. In a dumped girl, crossing a shy gaze at a train station, or maybe in a wrong number on the phone. Everything could lead to the most unbelievable love story, with passion and magic around it. The world itself would conspire to make it true.

He was a pre-teenager after all, and those promises he found in music, which never had felt in his life, were enough to seal his path at that time: he wanted to become a musician, and draw with sounds the colourful and exciting life that this grey existence seemed to be.

Without hesitation, he asked for permission to his parents for starting parallel music studies. A slight disappointment tinged his mother's voice on the phone when he explained his intentions to her, but they did not deny him his desire. After all, it was a _parallel_ study.

That night, during dinner, Kristoph would give him the longest lecture that Klavier had ever listened from his brother; about heritages, duties, fame and being recognized by others, always wielding that twisted smile on his face.

Throughout that year, his voice changed, as it was expected, and so did his musical skills. With a guitar, his hands started to create nostalgia and romanticism in just few notes. Finally, he became able to reproduce those songs that told him, time ago, about fate and desire, about how easy it was to obtain all he wanted if he just wished for it hard enough.

Although Klavier had started his music studies anyway, the seed of guilt planted inside of him by his brother started to grow as well.

Every time he was caressing his guitar, the supposed duty to be accomplished was there, straining the pleasure that sound could provide him.

Even when his artistic skills excelled, he could not support the pressure of his own surname. He could not resist the weight of Kristoph's word: _fame_. It had turned into a demand beyond his own will.

Klavier tried to achieve a different kind of fame than the one the Gavins already had, a melodious fame, rich in sounds and chords. He was committed to turn himself into a famous musician, and for a long time, while he was coursing the last year of his personal private education, he believed to be able to do so.

But Kristoph's presence in his life was like poison.

Slowly, guilt and self-restrain tainted the music away, turning it into an empty union among words and sounds put in the right place, at the right time, but nothing more. No colours, no life at all.

They were starting to lose their power to make him feel, just because Kristoph's words were there, saying to him there was nothing good and useful in music, and law was the best path a Gavin should follow.

"_You can't play the guitar all the time, Klavier. You have to do something useful with your name". _

"_Our parents made an impressive effort for giving us all we needed. We should be grateful to them and show them how excellent lawyers we can be."_

"_You should know part of your fame as musician will be thanks to our parents."_

"_Understand, you will never be appreciated as a musician in the same way as a lawyer."_

"_Lawyers have self-respect, and make others respect the law. On the other hand, musicians are always problematic."_

Every phrase Klavier had heard from his brother used to return at night, crossing his dreams, among the notes of his guitar, between the book pages he was reading for his exam, even in the meat he was having for dinner.

They turned into an obsession mixed with guilt.

_Oh, the endless guilt._

He resisted all he could, but throughout the past year, he announced he was going to leave Germany and go to Japan, in order to study how to be a defense attorney.

It had been the best decision he had made in his whole young existence.

Not only did he break the endless and unchanged landscape of his daily life, but he also would finally be able to escape from Kristoph's voice.

The trip promised him a new environment with the possibility to walk his own path. Being an attorney in a family of attorneys was a burden. He needed to be something else, to find himself and turn into the unexpected, being more than a well-known lawyer in a country where the Gavins had turned into the best among the best.

Maybe he needed to be special on his own, something worth to be remembered. Maybe Kristoph's words had reached some level of his own soul.

He did not know.

That was the reason why he entered in the Themis Legal Academy, at the young age of fourteen, under the protection of professor Means.

The fresh air in the Academy dazzled him.

At first, he got along only with adults, which was not strange considering that the few people he had dealt with as a child had been always older than him. He used to remain quiet and smiling, like his mother always told him to do. His shiny face was a free passage to the lands of acceptance in an unknown world of humans beyond his family.

Fame and smiles. All people were attracted to them.

Little by little, he earned several friends, who shared with him part of his passion for music among other things.

All those sentiments about friendship he had always heard about in songs, started to seem a bit more real at that time.

However, at night, Kristoph's voice appeared in his dreams, showing him how deep he had reached him by repeating a sole heavy phrase: _"only evidence matters"_.

The dream, simple as it could be, hid a terrible meaning which leaked into his own life. Every little thing he had found in the Academy had been turned into a doubtful fact that required to be proved. The truth in the books, the usefulness of the legal system, the supposed friendship he had been sharing with some students. Once again, everything was made of suspicion and shells; and as it had happened with music, each piece in his life was in the correct exact place, just to fit in, but completely lacking of vitality.

_The perfect emptiness._

But doubts would not have affected him if facts had been different.

Inspired by recent words from professor Means, several students had plotted against others in order to destroy their academic lives and achieve a better competitive environment in the future. The whole strategy had been approved by the Academy. There was no salvation, even old friends ripped off each other's future to earn power or fame in a non-so-clear future career.

_It should be that way. By any means._

Many of his actual friends admired those who had ruined the academic life of ingenious students. How longer would it take for them to turn against him?

He could barely believe where he had entered into. Gullible, he had believed to be free from Kristoph's voice, but the whole Academy told him otherwise. It was as if the Academy itself were made by his brother's hand.

And then, one more time, he found himself at the same point he was when he had just arrived to Japan.

Only fake smiles everywhere, hollow sounds echoing in the empty and discoloured landscapes. Inexorably, the bitter disappointment had reached his soul.

The long-lasting fight ended that day when professor Means explained in class that everything should be done in order to achieve winning. What could be a better mark for showing his brother had won than that philosophy?

He felt so defeated and lost. How could everything be a mask? A mean to earn a dark benefit?.

That night he did not return to his room, nearby the campus. He only roamed through the long park adjoined by trees the Academy had.

The night seemed a little different than those he remembered spending at his room in Germany. Maybe it was the emptiness that surrounded him when his hope of a world beyond his brother's words was broken into pieces.

Completely spiritless, he laid on the grass, and looked up the sky in silence. The blinking stars and the moon inspired him the usual, yet strange feeling growing inside his guts, changing into sounds that started to make sense in his mind. He sighed frustrated. He needed a guitar, or something to let that sound come up, escape from his soul and body and be born as a sad rain of melodious chords.

He had closed his eyes trying to memorize all the sounds he was listening to in his mind, when the musical voice of a woman forced him to come back into reality.

"Look what we have here..."

She had a puzzled gesture in her face, and a sneaky smile, half covered with her long curly hair, looking down at him from the sky, with her silhouette barely lightened by the moon in the background. The goddess of the irony and freshness had appeared before him.

He could only look at her, speechless. She tossed her long hair, with style, flawlessly, and sat by his side, leaning her body on her elbows and looked at the sky.

"Boys should go to bed at this hour, so that they don't fall asleep in the middle of their classes tomorrow. But... I understand why you are here. Just look at that precious girl, there". She pointed to some star that Klavier did not care about. He only enjoyed the movement of her arm, as if it was the only thing relevant at that moment, and the way to point at the star, with her palm upwards... it was saucy and artistic somehow. He never had met someone like her in the Academy. The need to know more about her increased all at once.

"Excuse me, Frau-"

"Courte. Constance Courte. Well, no, in fact, professor Courte... well, no. To be fair, Prosecutor Courte too. And in my free time, writer... well, no. I'm also an amateur astronomer. Well, but I like to sing too, you know. Karaoke. Ah, life is so interesting, you can't pick just one thing, you know?."

Despite the strange way to talk, her voice had an exquisite tone that, combined with that melodic speaking he could not help but feel a sudden fascination for that woman. Every word, accompanied with a gesture, gave her not only a strong aura of confidence, but also an image that few could defy. She could say the most irrelevant thing, but the way her hands danced in the air, the way she tossed her hair from time to time, all her gestures, full of impertinence, impressed him like nobody else did in his life. And it had just been the first impression. He was eager to know more about her.

Still looking at the sky, she led the conversation through diverse and completely different topics, outside the fields of law or fame. She talked about the things that made her feel alive, from weird hobbies to her job as a teacher. There was passion and joy in all she spoke, feeling it so real, so genuine.

_Genuine_. Something that he only had perceived in a song.

The impression became his new obsession.

After the end of every class, he sneaked into her office, and they would spend the rest of the afternoon talking about her hobbies. Reluctant at first, Klavier held back from talking about his artistic skills until she forced him with her sneaky and saucy way to treat people. Thus, he told her about his love for guitars, and for the first time in his life he listened to somebody saying it was a good thing to perform without a slight gesture of disappointment.

She gave him hope to keep chasing his dream to be a musician. The simple fact of being accepted, at least for a sole person, changed his whole life. And then he found the answer when a small but unstoppable fire burnt in his chest: law and the Truth finally had a genuine meaning for him.

It had not passed a month when he decided to quit his defense attorney path, and become a prosecutor, as Courte was.

The news surprised her, but she only gave him a grin, genuine and playful, and rubbed his head strongly, making a mess of his blond hair.

A meaningful bound had been set.

Little by little, both of them started to deepen their relationship as mentor and student. Their common musical tastes were translated into inner jokes about music, songs or small breaks in her office, where Klavier used to play the guitar for hours, showing her the first songs of what it would become the future work of The Gavinners, paying special attention to her critiques in order to improve his creations.

She enjoyed Klavier's style to the point of suggesting him to perform in a rock band; an idea that had begun almost as a joke, but quickly rooted into Klavier's mind until turning into a real tangible wish.

Sharing meaningful things with someone who had put faith in him boosted him. Hence, a year after their first meeting, Klavier had almost finished his prosecuting studies, and had performed in several rock concerts in the prefecture; demonstrating in doing so that he was capable of being more than just one thing; more than just an empty shiny smile.

"That was a lot of sparkles, Klavier. Well, no, maybe I should say... fire?. Did you want to create a star in the stage?". She said sarcastically, grinning, when they met after the show. The concert had several special effects involving fire and sparkles that set the moon scenario on fire. It had been put out from the stage as fast as the people in charge could, and the effect seemed almost on purpose, but not for Courte's sharp eyes.

"Ja. Professor, don't make fun of it. It was unexpected."

"It was funny. Besides, the songs were awesome, I will buy your disc just as soon as it's released"

"No need. I can give you a special one, with my own autograph on it".

"Wow. Look at you, the little prosecutor making me feel like a teenage fan. Could you put a kiss on it? With lipstick. And the photo of you wearing it."

Klavier smiled at her fondly, and embraced her with a long and squeezing hug. She returned the gesture and patted on his back. "Now, now, you are not going to cry, are you?. What will the fans say if they know you are hugging a professor and crying over her shoulder after she told you to use lipstick!. You are not going to ruin your career, boy!."

Klavier laughed inside her arms, and he kept hugging anyway. The feeling was warm enough for breaking it.

* * *

At the end of the semester, the whole Academy gave winter vacations, and many students returned to their homes so they could pass Christmas day with their families and the luckier ones with their partners. Many students had invited him for that special date, but he had to refuse. Christmas was a different type of festivity for his family. A date in which the whole bright side should be showed.

He returned to Germany after giving Courte an Orion X15, a great amateur telescope with an automatic mount, and a high quality recorder system in it, to film the most beautiful events in the wide space of the dark night.

When he put a foot in that mansion, the melancholic feeling he had been feeding during the flight disappeared all at once. Many silent memories sneaked into his mind at the sight of his brother, who was sitting in the living room, with his legs crossed and papers in his hands, talking with his father aside from him. His mother was seated in the opposite sofa, talking by phone while her hands were playing with a pen over a notebook. The three of them looked at him when he opened the door, and smiled, returning to what they were doing just right before that.

Klavier sighed and took off his sunglasses as he shut the door. He was surprised by how many things, thankfully, he had forgotten from that house.

Putting his bag on the ground, he hugged his mother over the back of the sofa. She kept talking about rights and evidence on the phone, but she caressed her son's arm with a hand. After a while, when she ended the conversation, as well as Kristoph and his father, the three of them looked at Klavier in detail.

"Just look at you, little brother. I was expecting to see you in a more... _formal_ outfit". Kristoph said pushing up his glasses, carefully picking his words.

Klavier was wearing a tight leather trouser with a shirt that, when he took off his black jacket, showed part of his abdominal muscles. Many metallic ornaments were hanging over the shirt, and a chain-belt around his hips with even more chains falling over his thighs, accentuated the already peculiar outfit for a lawyer.

"Some things never change..." said Klavier, surrounding her mother and looking straight at him, with a sassy grin. The unusual gesture made Kristoph rise an eyebrow. Where did he learn to smile that way?.

"Then, from what I've been told, you have almost finished your studies, Ja!. I'm so proud of you." his father said, still looking at the papers in his hands.

Klavier let go of his mother and sat on the small table in the middle of both sofas. Kristoph clenched his teeth.

"I'm going to be a... prosecutor."

Suddenly, Kristoph's smile disappeared, his father stopped the movement of his hands over the papers and stared at him; and his mother just raised her eyebrows. A deafening silence transpired in the whole house once again.

Feeling the tension in the air, Klavier tossed his hair and snapped his fingers, drawing a smile on his face.

"Why would you do such a thing without communicating us anything?" reclaimed Kristoph, this time, with a slight frown.

"Some other things do change..."

"Are you content with that?". The voice of his father was hoarse and calm. It always sounded harsh, but not in a violent way. Just like the sound of a wave breaking against a cliff, too tired to stop the flow of the inevitable back and forth of the things that were already set.

"I guess so. My first trial will be the following year".

"At least you didn't end as a musician..." Kristoph said, recovering his smile on his face. Or maybe he was looking for a reason not to be so disappointed?

"Well... no. But I am a musician anyway, and I'm playing in a band and all, with some prosecutor students. I brought you all copies of my disc."

"Aren't you going to be a prosecutor?" this time his mother looked at him surprised. Her eyes were the last thing he wanted to see full of disappointment.

"No, I will. Both. Music and prosecution..."

"This is nonsense" Kristoph laughed. "What kind of prosecutor will be taken seriously when playing the fool at some teenage concert?."

"Appearance has nothing to do with it..."

"And I agree with you, my dear brother." Kristoph switched his crossed legs "but... I don't see how this is going to be positive for your future as a prosecutor. Just look at you, and that weird outfit. Just how are you going to pursue criminals? By looking like one of them?. Unless you are trying to... I don't know... disguise yourself among the shadows in order to catch them?." he chuckled while twisting a lock from his hair "That would be more proper for a detective, I guess"

Klavier frowned at him. He knew what his brother was doing once again. "Why does everything have to be so stilted with you?"

"Now, now, boys" his mother interrupted them, knowing the tension in both siblings could not get to a peaceful end. "Let's congratulate Klavier. Doing both activities should have demanded him a lot of effort, and after all, it's good to have hobbies. More if you are young. When you reach adulthood, you probably will change".

Klavier would always disagree with that, but the short excuse calmed down his brother, so he just let it go. It was a festivity for sharing those rare moments they had as a family, and he did not want to ruin them.

"Very well. I will find myself a job in Japan as well." Kristoph said. His parents looked at him surprised, and Klavier got pale. He could not expect anything but trouble coming from his brother's suggestion. "I will be the defense attorney for your first case, dear brother. I want to see with my very own eyes if you really are made of what is needed in trials. For a prosecutor, that is."

"That sounds cool...". He could not help but smile delightfully. The thought of revenge felt like something he deserved.

His parents looked at each other. They were not completely fond of the idea. Their family had been full of defense attorneys for many generations. Gavins working together as a group were known as the great beasts in trials. International corporations used to hire them thanks to the incredible fame they had earned throughout the years. Competition inside the family was something new, even for them.

But their children should walk their own path. Only the future would show the final outcome.


	7. Chapter 7

He awoke in a room that was not his, but still it was familiar.

Narrowing his eyes, he tried to remember what had happened after the concert, and a dim memory of sighs and caresses came up to his mind.

A sound coming from somewhere outside the room caught his attention and interrupted the triggered sluggish sensations. He sighed and sat in the bed, feeling the sheets sliding through his naked body. A shiver tensed his back for just a second.

While consciousness was resurging in him, once again the frustration had started to do the same.

His first case had concluded two weeks ago, but every morning as soon as he opened his eyes, the doubts and suspicions attacked his mind as well, followed by that thirst of the never accomplished revenge.

Extending his arms in the air, Klavier stretched his back and yawned.

Why did his brother tell him every little detail about the case he was going to defend?. In the end, the whole trial had been unfair towards that famous defense attorney. But it had been the right thing to do; after all, how could he allow a forger such as him to remain inside the legal system?. Still, something was odd.

He went out from the bed, gathered all his clothes which were scattered all over the room, and took a shower.

"So, finally you are awake..." said a girl wearing a working suit from the kitchen, having breakfast while watching television.

"You missed me?" he smiled and opened the fridge from where he took milk, and prepared himself a coffee with some toasts.

"Don't be cocky, Klavier. That works only with your fans".

"Ah, you're always so straightforward, Fräulein."

Before sitting at her side, Klavier left a kiss on the girl's neck. She did not giggle and continued watching and eating when she spoke, "Anne called this morning; she said she wants to see you. Ha. It seems somebody actually missed you". She drew a grin in her face.

"_Es ist eine Weile her_ [It's been a while]. Do you want to come too? It will be more enjoyable."

"Well... about that." Her face changed as she sat upright on the chair and stared at him. Klavier, about to bite his toast, stopped midway before those eyes. "I think I will pass. And... it probably would be better if we don't do this any more, okay?"

"Oh. I see." Klavier blinked several times until he recovered his voice again, "did you find someone else? Why doesn't he join us?"

"Yeah but... he seems pretty conventional, and probably he is going to freak it out if he knows about these kind of things, you know."

"So _langweilig [_boring_]_." he tossed his hair in the air.

"I know."

Klavier sipped his coffee and kept staring at her, enjoying those sharp and honest eyes, while she caressed his hair in silence. A bit of sadness was settled there, in both of them. "I wish he was a good man."

"Mn. Don't worry. I will try to spoil him and convince him in the future. But for now..."

"I understand." He chuckled and returned his attention to his own mug.

Both of them had breakfast quietly until the girl stood up from the chair and kissed him.

"I need to go to work. Leave the keys in the entrance rug when you leave, and keep in touch."

Nodding lazily, he kept watching television without paying attention for as long as he was drinking his coffee. A sigh escaped from his mouth when he heard the sound of a door being closed. He always hated that sound. It always meant an empty home.

And there it was. The unavoidable melancholia, the same one that harmed him but also inspired sounds in his mind. Once again, from his guts, music was flowing through his body, silently screaming for coming out. He needed his guitar, so he left the apartment as fast as he could, checking for a second and last time the bedroom in order to not forget any personal objects. That girl was one of his fondest friends and he did not want to trouble her life.

The first thing he had to do when he arrived to the office, was to touch his guitar. Sitting in his chair, with a pen and staves over his desk, he let the music just flow in the environment. However, several cues started to sound wrong. Terribly wrong.

His frown was getting deeper and deeper at the sound of every off-key, but he continued playing anyway. Feeling how a small mistake could turn a whole song into a disaster had its twisted charm.

A knock in his door made him stop that musical chaos all at once. Still holding the instrument, he asked the person to come into the office. He glared at the intruder, a detective who was assigned to him a few days ago. The strange man, wearing leather pants and a jacket, looked at Klavier's guitar with a slight surprise. Even if the hierarchy did not allow him such a familiar gesture, the detective could not help but immediately ask him about the instrument.

Pleased, not only for the man's rare taste in outfits, but also for such rule breaking behaviour, Klavier smiled and invited him to take a seat and talk. The main topic, the reasons why the man had come, passed to a secondary place in the conversation. Music was, by far, more important than useless and boring paperwork and legal protocols.

Thus, it was how Klavier found in the rookie detective a musician, as well as a skilful guitarist, whose name was Daryan Crescend.

It did not take too much time for him to turn that man into one of his most trustworthy friends inside the prosecutor's office. Maybe he was starting to find the meaning of those songs he had listened to as a child. A friend and a fellow musician, working side by side to do the right thing. Courte would be so prideful of him.

Daryan and Klavier had so many interests in common, that months later, the group named 'The Gavinners' came up as a result of their enthusiasm. Everything was so colourful. He was finally walking in that changing landscape he used to just observe through the window. So bright, so warm.

The group had been a good panacea for his own doubts, but every time he thought they were far away, the reminiscence of that diary sheet used to appear in his dreams. Inside the brightness of his life, that sole perfect, yet grey, sheet was always in the background of his thoughts, as a reminder of what never must be forgotten.

* * *

He closed his briefcase after arranging the evidence he had used in the trial. The Judge had already left the room, and slowly, the audience were doing so as well.

Resting his hands on the briefcase, Edgeworth looked at the defense's bench.

They were a German couple who remarkably had been defending the rest of the implicated people in the smuggling ring case. Catching Alba had stopped the main kernel, but the small groups around the world still had to be apprehended, and they were working on it as fast as possible.

To accomplish such a task, Interpol had assigned several covered prosecutors into special agent groups around the world. Among those prosecutors there was Fransizka, who was delegated to Borginia, and Edgeworth himself, designed to Germany. Interpol was going to put all its efforts in assuring that such organization would never be built again.

The smuggling ring was connected with several murder cases all around the world, and Japan was not the exception. Japanese corporations, local Mafia groups and accidents were related to some areas of the smuggling ring, or at least, the last remnants of it.

During the whole week, Edgeworth had been reading piles and piles of cases related to the smuggling ring in his natal country, hoping some information would help him to destroy the local groups in Germany. It was needed to understand the big picture concerning the organization. Every piece of information was useful. However, those Japanese files turned into an unexpected, yet special reading, because very often, _that_ man's name appeared in them.

The silly lawyer had been defending people that, unfortunately, clashed with the most corrupted entities of the country, such as the so well-known Cadaverini family. The lawyer defended a young girl that had been framed for a crime that family had performed, and in doing so, he uncovered by chance the connection between the worldwide organization and the local Mafia family. _Vintage Wright._

Perhaps, when he returned to Japan, he should speak with _him_ and investigate together every little aspect of the infamous family.

He frowned deeply and closed his eyes.

_When he returned. _

He had been in Japan for the last two weeks... and he _could_ not call _him_. Of course, he was utterly busy. He had to solve the Zhen Fa's president case, help Kay to recover her memory, and deal with his past with that young boy his father used to have as an assistant; now turned into a mature man that treated him like a nephew. He _had not_ enough time to waste in giving a small call to _that_ man.

Was he fooling himself?.

Of course not. He even thought in some more practical way to keep in touch with _that_ man. He almost asked Kay to give _him_ a letter by sneaking it in _his_ office. A really prideful and mature way of... _Ngh_

He was fooling himself, indeed.

Truth be told, it was disgusting. A grown man, asking a teenager to give a letter of apologies to a friend who, he knew, was terribly upset with him due to the resemblance of the situation with a past and harmful memory. Thankfully, his common sense stopped him before asking Kay to perform such a childish task. He sighed.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth. May I ask you if are you feeling well?"

Dragged into reality by a woman's calm voice, Edgeworth opened his eyes and looked at the couple who was standing in front of him with a polite smile.

"I'm well. My apologies. It's been a long week."

"Please, take care of your health, Mr Prosecutor" said the man, extending his hand towards Edgeworth, and his wife did the same.

"I shall do so. You can trust in that, Mr and Mrs Gavin. It's been a pleasure to work alongside with you."

He extended his hand to both of them and shook them slightly, as the etiquette used to approve.

Bowing his head a bit, Edgeworth let the couple go past him first. He could not stop observing them during the small walk through the corridors. They made jokes between them about their small mistakes made in the trial, and ended smiling at each other by remembering some warm anecdote about their children.

His slight fascination for such dynamic was impelling him to keep listening to their small talk, walking behind them until reaching the elevator. They stepped inside and invited him to enter with them. Edgeworth simply shook his head and kept walking his path through the stairs with a slight frustration tingeing his mood.

When he finally crossed the Court building's door, he called a taxi and returned to the prosecutor's offices. There, lent against a wall aside from his office, he found the agent Lang.

Inappreciably, Edgeworth deepened his frown and sighed. More frustration to add to his day.

At the sound of his steps, Lang widened his grin in his usual vulpine way, and looked at him with his hands in his pockets.

It had not been more than few days since the last time he had to work with him, and once again he had to meet him. That utterly wild man grinning in such flippant gesture, showing his sharp canine teeth at him, was nothing more than unpleasant news. Edgeworth already knew that his annoyance had just begun.

"Agent Lang. I thought you would be in your country."

"That's what you wish, Mr Prosecutor."

_Indeed_. He let a sigh out. "We had been dealing with all the loose ends that remained here."

"We know, that's why I'm here."

Edgeworth put the key in the doorknob and unlocked it. Before he could even take it off, and without any warning, Lang stepped first into the office, passing so close to him, that Edgeworth could smell his pine scent mixed with sweat. The prosecutor stopped any complaints as he was appreciating the aroma, unable to decide whether it was disgusting or impressive. Only the strong slam of the door, which had been kicked by Lang while entering, dragged him back into reality.

"I would appreciate it if you could show more respect towards the Prosecutor's offices".

"Hmph." Lang gave him a sassy look and sat in the small sofa. He observed the room around and shook his head. "This looks just like the same pink cake office you had in Japan." then, his eyes fell over the chess table placed in front of the desk, where a blue knight was surrounded by several red pieces. However, the sole knight had checkmated the red king and there was no movement that could save it. Strange, yet deadly game.

"It's not pink. It's red wine"

Lang approached the chessboard as Edgeworth kept organizing his briefcase on the desk, taking apart the evidence he had used in the last trial from his personal objects, and put them into police boxes.

"How did you get this game, Smarty boy?"

Edgeworth rose his eyes at the detective, and after a blink, his attention returned to the briefcase with a slight frown in his face, but remaining silent at all times. Lang chuckled. He took the red king and bit it.

"What on Earth are you doing with it, Agent Lang!?" Edgeworth said immediately.

"Now that I got your attention-" said with half of piece in his mouth, "-I will ask again... how did you get this game?"

"That's irrelevant. Now return that piece... _Ngh_. No, it would be better not to do so... just dispose of it into the garbage can."

"I hate repeating myself." Lang said, resting a leg on a corner of the desk, leaning his weight on it.

"I do as well." Edgeworth glowered at the agent, who kept the piece in his mouth, moving it from the left to the right corner and vice versa.

Despite keeping on staring at each other for a short time, Edgeworth finally gave up over the wild personality of the man, and ignored him as he continued putting order in his briefcase.

Silent, Lang observed every movement, making a chewing noise from time to time.

It was impossible to ignore those reddish brown eyes over his head and hands when he was holding an evidence bag, or going back and forth through the office to place the files into the library. At some point, Edgeworth started to feel quite uncomfortable due to the deadly silence, the sound of his movements, the echoing of that disturbing chewing and the pressure of those eyes. Vulpine eyes that, since the last two weeks, seemed more intense than when they met for the first time.

Finally, when he was done with the box, Edgeworth took the police adhesive tape and sealed it. However, despite finding his scissors nowhere nearby, he started to fight with the tape, trying to cut it with his bare hands, swearing in an old German that Lang barely could understand.

"Cut it with your teeth" the agent said, staring at him with a grin on his face, still playing with the piece in his mouth.

"W-What?. That's utterly disgusting... how could I use my mouth on a dirty tape? Have you got the slightest idea about how many hands have been touching it?"

Lang chuckled. "I can't imagine how you enjoyed your childhood, smarty boy-" he took out the piece from his mouth and leant over the box, using his teeth to cut the tape. Of course, he did not perceive the slight, yet sour, effect his words had done in the prosecutor. When the task was over, he looked at Edgeworth and grinning, he added in a deep voice: "-or your teens". Having said it, he put the chess piece back in his mouth and, amused, waited for Edgeworth's reaction.

"V-Very well. This box must be archived. I-I shall return soon."

Edgeworth took the box and left the office, giving Lang a moment alone to enjoy what he had done.

_Maybe my words had rubbed salt in a pinkish and sore spot_.

He laughed for a moment and then gave a look to the open briefcase.

_A prosecutor is a prosecutor, after all. _

Although he had already made peace with the Von Karma children, their tutor's file was clear enough for him; they had to be suspected from time to time. As Lang Zi had said time ago: Temptation was a permanent predator in humans, and the biggest putrefaction always starts with a small pus blister.

Even more considering the last events he had lived; even the most trustworthy person could always be a traitor. And that was the Truth. A new, insightful and deeply harmful Truth.

He wiped out his grin, put the chess piece in his jacket pocket, and leant over the briefcase. He wrinkled his nose when the pinkish-woody-whatever smell reached his nostrils. It was that damn perfume; revolting, but at the same time, it had an intoxicating effect. Or maybe he was just letting his thoughts loosen too much.

Turning back his attention to the briefcase, Lang observed the interior with detail: law-related papers, a book titled "_In a Grove"_ by Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, several pens, a feather pen at the side of the inkwell, and a pair of cravats. He frowned. _Why would that man carry extra cravats anyway?_. As a special agent, he had a special nose as well, which helped him to find a secret compartment that unfolded a set of several photos portrayed in a transparent band. He saw an old picture of a man wearing glasses and a hat, grabbing the collar of his gabardine with his hands. Below that one was a group photo; showing the prosecutor, his police assistant, and that weird 'friend' of his, who used to work as the Steel Samurai. But there were two more people he did not recognize: a strange girl holding a poster with the word 'victory' written on it, and a spiky haired man in a blue suit, who was receiving a sneaky look from the fancy boy. The last photo was depicting the prosecutor with his scruffy assistant and that girl he met in Japan, who had given him, somehow, the scar on his right leg.

Suddenly, the door opened, making Lang take out the chess piece from his jacket and keep biting it, pretending to be distracted as he lifted his body from the desk. The top of the piece was already marked by his teeth.

"Very well, Agent, tell me the reason you are here"

Edgeworth approached the briefcase and observed inside. Disgusted, he frowned when he saw the secret compartment unfolded and the pictures openly visible.

"I've been told you already cleaned up everything in here. So, they want you in Zheng Fa."

"And they sent you to just tell me this?" Lang rolled his eyes, "I had planned beforehand to do so the next week. Despite knowing this request, I did not expect-"

"Hey, look. They want you tomorrow in the Zheng Fa main office. Say no more."

"W-What?" Edgeworth's eyes widened looking straight to the agent, who was sat in the sofa, with the piece in his mouth.

"That's why I'm here, Mr. Pretty boy. I'm responsible for your transparent entrance into the Interpol system during this operation. And I was assigned as part of the teamwork."

"Hmph. And that means you are my agent assistant?"

Lang chuckled lifting his chin. "No, It means I will teach you how things work inside Interpol, so you won't fuck up everything, like all prosecutors do, but... before more explaining, I have to say we got our flight at midnight."

"Midnight!? This is unbelievable!. I should have been warned about this request two days ago, to say the least. I can't believe...-"

"Ha. Stop complaining. This is not your fancy prosecution system."

"May I ask you why, from the whole Interpol team, you ended alongside with me?" Edgeworth closed the briefcase and approached the door, followed by Lang and his endless chewing.

"I asked for it". The agent said, amused.

Edgeworth, who was locking the door, stopped midway to observe him. Lang was, once again, grinning at him, or at least, trying to do it, considering half of the red piece was still in his mouth.

"May I pray why?. I believe you might request to be allocated with Franziska if you wish to do so."

Both men walked through the corridor to the elevator, where Lang stopped and pushed the button to wait for it. When he stepped in, he looked at Edgeworth who kept walking towards the stairs without saying a word.

_What's the problem?. Too much technology for a man living in the Elizabethan century?_. He only shrugged and pushed the floor button. His leg was not entirely healed, and an unnecessary effort in using the stairs could reopen the scar.

Taking his time, Lang reached the main entrance of the building and waited some minutes until the fancy man appeared by his side. Considering the lack of time he had to arrange his personal luggage, Edgeworth accepted Lang's offering to ride the car that Interpol had provided him.

"Agent Lang, you did not answer me" he said, fastening the seatbelt and putting his briefcase on his lap.

"Oh... what was that about?". Lang straightened the rear-view mirror, and without using his own belt, he put his foot on the accelerator, burning the wheels on the roar. His co-pilot could not help but grasp the car door violently as his briefcase fell to his feet.

"Stop now, Agent Lang!" the prosecutor barked, realizing that accepting the offer had been the biggest mistake in his whole life.

Lang's driving skills were madness itself. The agent was fond of high speed, turning around without slowing down and stopping short when some cars were allowed to pass by, avoiding almost all the speed road signs. The only thing he professed some kind of respect for were the traffic lights, which were, in a sense, a nightmare by themselves: abrupt stops under red lights, followed by instant accelerations when they turned green. That without counting the desperate races at higher speed just to pass through while they were still yellow.

For Edgeworth, that chaotic combination of movements in a small and metallic vehicle gave him many reminiscences he did not want to recall. He was hardly breathing and a cold sweat covered his back.

That was Madness. Utter madness.

"What on Earth is happening with you!" he barked again, white fingers tightening the inner handle of the car door.

"You look a bit tense." That malicious grin never abandoned his face.

"You are violating all the traffic laws, stop this madness now."

"You aren't used to chase criminals, are you?. Ha. Of course not... you are like those who just put their asses in clean desks, speaking way fancier in useless trials."

Lang rounded a corner without slowing down, grinning with his look fixated on the road and moving the piece of chess from a side to another in his mouth.

"Agent..."

"Ha. You know, those stupid trials have no real effects..."

"Agent, reduce the speed. Now."

"You went way too far on the wrong guy? No problem, check for another, people will forget about the mistake..."

"Stop this, Agent. I thought you had a minimal respect towards the law, I believe that's not what Lang Zi-"

Angered, the agent squeezed the wheel and turned his face to Edgeworth, who was digging his fingers in the bottom of the seat.

"What Lang Zi said... is lost."

Edgeworth frowned, his eyes jumped from Lang's serious face to the road. "Keep your eyes ahead, Agent!".

It was not the best moment to anger a man driving a car at such speed.

But thankfully, the outburst reached its end, and Lang's fingers around the wheel finally relaxed. The rest of the trip was calm and silent, giving Edgeworth some time to recover his breath.

When they stopped in front of the hotel, Edgeworth went out from the car, still trembling for such a crazy ride, and stretched his hands and legs to alleviate the muscles' pain. Amused for the torture, Lang grinned at him and put again the chess piece in his jacket pocket.

"I need to arrange my luggage." Edgeworth said, when his look crossed the agent's over the roof of the car.

"I'll watch you" Lang said, shutting the door.

"What?"

"I don't like to repeat myself, Mr Pretty boy. Like I said earlier, I'm here to check your every move in the process of entering my country."

"W-What? Are you suggesting I could smuggle some kind of... thing? After helping to dismantle the main smuggling groups?"

"No hard feelings." Lang put his hands on his own hip and looked at him out of the corner of his eye, with a jaded, yet dominant attitude.

"This is unbelievable. I request a clarification, my luggage is private business"

"Look-", the man turned to Edgeworth and glowered at him, "-you are going to enter Zheng Fa. It is not a fancy country like yours, we aren't worried about where to throw empty batteries or what kind of flowers we are gonna plant in the main park."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. A strange change had shadowed Lang's attitude, but he could not decide what it was.

Resigned, he sighed for the last time and went into the hotel, followed by the agent who was looking around thoroughly. Without saying a word, Edgeworth kept walking, even when he passed ahead the elevator.

"Hey, Mr Prosecutor boy, which one is your room? I don't want to waste my time with snobby old habits." said the man in front of the elevator.

Edgeworth turned on his heels with a slight wicked smile on his face, and said, "I can barely remember the number. I've just gotten used to the _habit._ You could always ask in every room, on each floor. I wish you good luck." And then, he turned again and continued his walking, disappearing through the stairs.

Mentally swearing at the fancy boy, Lang bit the corner of his lower lip in disgust, and ran behind him trying in vain to not exert his leg.

It took them a while to reach the suite: the number thousand and seven. Tired, Lang sighed, without showing in his face any proof of the sharp pain pulsing in his thigh. Probably, the wound had reopened a bit, but he just accepted it as he used to accept life: certain pains were unavoidable, leaving behind a marked body with a scar that, sometimes, healed slower than usual. Not every wound was the same, not all of them had the same depth.

"Too much exercise for an agent who is used to chase criminals by car?" Edgeworth said dryly, receiving a deadly glare as an answer which, obviously, he ignored.

At the moment they put a foot inside the room, a happy bark was heard. Surprised, Lang looked around and found a black shiba inu running into her master, letting her tongue as well as her cravat flutter in the air. His surprise was even bigger when saw the prosecutor, the snobby and serious smarty-pants, kneeling to let the dog jump to his shoulders and lick his face.

"Look what you have here..."

A sudden and warm feeling grew inside him at the sight of the little animal. Or perhaps, it was due to the Prosecutor as well. It was hard to decide.

The dog was happy, unable to restrain her enthusiasm for her master's arrival; and that behaviour was saying so many things about the fancy man; more than any file he had read.

Regaining his composure, Edgeworth got up and looked at Pesu in silence. The little dog made a low cry and put her ears down. He had forgotten he was not alone could not talk to her aloud. It was a kind of weakness, a deep proof of loneliness, that he did not want to show to any person.

"What's her name?" Lang asked, after seeing the power that man had over the pet, changing her behaviour with only a glare. Something in his mind gave him a delightful sensation that provoked a chill all along his back, ending behind his earlobes. Was the smarty-prosecutor an alpha as well?. He could not decide whether he was feeling threatened, jealous or...

"She has been called under the name of Pesu". The dog barked twice and turned around in the same place, looking at her master as her tail moved franticly. "I shall prepare my luggage, please, make yourself comfortable"

Edgeworth left the dog with the agent. Despite knowing Lang was a reckless person, he also knew by far that regardless of his rough and aggressive exterior, the agent would never endanger an animal, and much less Pesu; who had a charming personality that nobody could resist. Pesu was so different from him. Once again, as many times in his life, Edgeworth questioned the fallacy which affirmed dogs and owners were alike.

He went to the room and arranged his clothes, folding each one in a meticulous way and placed them into the big suitcase. While doing that, he could listen the friendly conversation that Lang and Pesu were having. He could not help but smile, as he had won a personal wager.

After a brief silence, Lang walked inside the room with the dog in his arms, and sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the suitcase. Without asking permission, he checked the pockets of several suits and shirts already folded, throwing them aside afterwards.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Edgeworth said, annoyed.

"What I've told you-" Lang sighed. "-do you really need people repeating you everything the whole day?-" then he looked at Pesu, who was sat by his side "-I guess you are barking the same all the time, aren't you? How can you live with this man?"

Pesu lied on the bed, and putting a paw over her snout, cried aloud.

Offended, Edgeworth turned his face all of a sudden and looked at her. "How dare you!". The dog just barked twice and moved her tail, being patted by Lang all over her back. Realizing his mistake -of talking with a dog in front someone else-, the prosecutor felt on his cheeks a slight warm, and threw all the clothes from his closet over the bed.

"So be it. Then you should examine them all before folding them. I shall not make it twice."

And that was their whole afternoon, checking clothes, passing them to Edgeworth, and seeing how the grumpy man folded them all and put them into the suitcase. From time to time, a pocket gave them a surprise: A love letter from a lady called Wendy, several mint flavoured candies, a piece of paper with the same kanji wrote down over and over mistaking some strokes in the first lines, and even a photo of the old man in gabardine and glasses that Lang had seen before.

"Who is he?" the agent asked when he found the picture. His sight jumped from the photo to Edgeworth and vice-versa, barely having an idea.

"He... was my father."

"Oh... Gregory Edgeworth". Surprised, the prosecutor raised his eyebrows. "Interpol is not gonna allow the entrance of people without investigating a bit, you know?"

Lang gave another look to the photo and put it aside, over the bed.

After letting pass a prudent time, Edgeworth recharged again, looking for the answers to the questions that the agent had avoided. His chances of success were high, considering Lang seemed more relaxed, due to, in part, the black dog that was over his lap.

"I would like to know, if you don't mind, why you did not ask for Franziska's team?"

Lang snorted, and with a twisted smile, spit "Did you want to know if you are special enough, fancy boy?"

"N-No... of course not." Edgeworth felt his cheeks getting warmer, and blamed himself. Maybe, at some point, quite deep in his soul, the statement was partially true. But just a bit. Yet, obviously, that was not the main intention of the question anyway.

"Sis has already picked her personal agent assistant. It's a rookie one, but she has potential. Ha, I wish I never have to fight against her."

"Franziska _chose_ a rookie... agent?" Edgeworth raised an eyebrow, and stopped the folding of his cloth for a moment, lost in the sea of confusion provided by such information.

"Surprised?"

"Quite a bit."

"I personally trained that girl for almost a year. This will be her first operation as a sole agent."

"It's hard to believe Franziska would accept this kind of situation, I might say."

Another snort came from Lang's grin. "Sis knows what she is doing."

"Verily. That, I've never doubted"

"So, if I had to work with a prosecutor who is not Sis... well, I have no other option than you, you know. Even though they are now lost, Lang Zi's words were wise: Only cooperate with those you can trust"

"Fair enough. I may say even when it's _not_ always a pleasure to work alongside with you, I could not deny you are able to do a remarkable job."

Lang made another noise that sounded like something in between of a snort and a laugh, "I guess I must thank you for that fancy compliment"

"I would be pleased to have your men's support in the operation as well."

Immediately, Lang stopped checking a shirt, and looked at his hands, absent-minded. That amused gesture he had just a second before was now diffuse into a bitter-sweet smile. Pesu lifted her head from his lap and carefully bit his jacket, in an attempt to not let him lose himself in useless thoughts.

"Speaking of that-" the strange and sudden behaviour caught the whole attention of the prosecutor. "-I will be your only resource."

"What happened?"

"My men were... disbanded." The last word sounded like a knife cutting his throat. So heavy, so lonely.

"Why?"

"Interpol is not like your fancy trials, like I said. Mistakes here cost all what you've obtained. "

"Was that reason Calisto Yew?"

"Yew?... Oh.. you mean Shih-na.-" Lang's eyes jumped from his own hands, to Edgeworth, and when the reminiscence finished, he fell over Pesu. "-Yes." Recovered from the name, he returned to his monotone activity, holding the shirt again, but his grin was lost.

"Accept my sincere-"

"Shut up." His commanding voice echoed in the room. There was not a slight tremble nor pain in it. "I'm not here for your pity. This is how things work. Mistakes are something only a few can afford." Only dry, cold, angered eyes fixed on the task. A low cry, coming from Pesu caught his attention and smiled at her as she licked his hand. The rest of the afternoon passed in silence.

After four hours, Edgeworth's luggage was done, except for the empty pet carrier.

"I believe we could dine before going to the airport-"

"We will have dinner _at_ the Airport." Dryly, Lang said and lifted Pesu in his arms to introduce her into the pet carrier, turning his face to the prosecutor. "Do you have some food for her?"

"Of course."

Without more words, Lang held the pet carrier and left the room by using the elevator. The pain in his thigh had intensified over time.

Handling two big suitcases plus his personal briefcase, Edgeworth followed him to the elevator, but went down through the stairs. It took him a bit more time than usual to reach the ground floor.

He gave his keys to the receptionist and shared some grateful and formal words about the hotel service. Then, he sighed deeply and gathered enough courage for what was awaiting him outside: _the car_.

There he was, the agent inside that metallic torture machine, and the pet carrier just behind him, in the back-seat, with a fixed belt fastened around it. As he knew, there was nothing to worry about Pesu when Lang was taking care of her.

Edgeworth opened the car boot and put his luggage inside. He got into the co-pilot seat and fastened his own belt, whispering some words that even he could not understand. Could it be a useless pray to absent Gods?.

And once again, Lang put his feet on the accelerator, burning the wheels on the pavement. The madness had just started all over again.

In that instant, the idea of dining at the airport looked, for him, as the best idea ever.

* * *

Edgeworth went out of the car, heavily breathing while regaining his composure from such a chaotic trip. As quick as the oxygen reached his brain, and remembered the poor creature in the back-seat; he immediately checked on Pesu, terrified for what he could find there. Lang's mad driving skills were too much for Pesu's psyche. However, his worries were wiped out when he opened the door and saw the little dog wagging her tail at her master's sight.

Lang was still in the seat, despite having opened the car door. It took him a bit longer to descend. Having pressed his thigh, he finally went out and approached a couple of men in black that awaited him in a corner of the Airport's entrance. They talked for a while, and when he returned to Edgeworth's side, he gave him a passport with his new identity from now on.

The men in black took the car away as Edgeworth and Lang walked into the Airport to the nearest restaurant.

Considering it was such a point with high amount of people, the place as well as the menu were quite simple. So simple that made Edgeworth let out a deep sigh full of frustration: the most tasteful and elaborated dish was supposed to be pasta with tomato sauce. Lang just ordered fried rice and meat without even reading the menu.

Waiting for their meals, Edgeworth took advantage of the silence installed between them both, and read the passport to make sure he would completely get used to his new identity.

However, the mere glimpse over the words made him frown. Questioning, he looked up at Lang, but found the agent lost in thoughts while resting his chin on his hand and looking through the windows. From time to time, he turned his palm around and bit the back zone between the thumb and the forefinger. There, Edgeworth could observe in detail the marks of incise teeth on the skin, older than just a few moments ago.

Had the agent acquired a recent biting habit?.

"Agent Lang." he called his attention, "Is this... a kind of joke?"

"Eh?" he glimpsed what the prosecutor had in his hands. "That's your new identity... don't you like it?. Not my problem. Go bother somebody else with your snobby tastes being offended".

Letting a short sight out, Edgeworth looked down silent and read again that name: Manfred Wolff. From now on, 'Edgeworth Miles' would be deleted in the main non-Interpol data base around the world. Nobody would be able to contact him, and his identity would remain as top secret as performing special tasks for the organization. It was a good thing, considering it would give him not only new challenges and knowledge to understand how laws worked in other countries and systems, but also, in some sense, it was a brand new beginning. Something he had needed from long time ago, and something he did not find when he returned to Japan. Or at least, not completely. A sharp memory crossed his mind.

_«Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death». _

It was the same again, but this time, without a note, without saying a word.

He put the passport away and looked at Lang. That man was by far more effective than the useless Gumshoe, but at the same time it was impossible to relax with him around. Regardless of that circumstances, it was a good stimulation to not allow himself into worthless thoughts.

They had dinner, drank a cup of tea, and let the hours go by as they were waiting for their flight. The silence between them was deadly. The only words they heard were those strange sounds coming from Pesu as Lang played with her completely lost in thoughts. Edgeworth assumed that the radical change of behaviour was related to his men being disbanded. After all, an alpha without his pack was just a lonely and lost wolf.

After a couple of hours, the Airport's loudspeakers informed that their departure would be soon, so they moved to the gate.

A large row with three big and spacious seats awaited them in the first class section. Edgeworth took the seat aside from the window, Pesu was placed in the middle one and Lang took the one left, close to the corridor. It was a perfect place for him, considering he could control each movement of the group of people there, as well as the man and his pet.

The first class of that flight was almost nothing compared with those he was used to, but he did not complain. What he was most worried about was the airplane itself. He took the clonazepam blisters from the briefcase, and ate two of them. Immediately, Lang, who seemed lost in thoughts, turned at him and frowned.

"What was that?" his voice reflected almost a threat.

"Medicine."

"Why didn't you inform me before?" Lang attempted to take the blister from Edgeworth's hand, but the prosecutor was fast enough to move away the object.

"What? Pardon me?. This is private-"

"You are working for other people now. Let me see that."

Closing his eyes and frowning, the prosecutor gave him the medicine and hoped the man could not guess the real problem behind it.

Lang read the blister thoroughly, squinting at Edgeworth when he said, "You get nervous on flights?"

"Are you done with that?" Edgeworth extended one hand over the pet carrier, waiting for Lang to give it back. After that, the agent put his elbow on the armrest, in the same position he was at the restaurant. However, this time, he did not quit biting that damaged zone on his hand.

The take-off was, as usual, hard enough for Edgeworth, who had to let the small window blind lifted, despite the captain's orders. Fooling himself with the landscape outside, while his body was experiencing the reminiscences of an earthquake, worked at some point. He nailed his fingers in the arm seat, trying to breathe slowly and keep focused on the window.

Silent, Lang looked at him out of the corner of his eye. If he were in the mood, he probably would laugh at the man.

"You look like you've never experienced turbulence, eh?-". It was supposed to be sarcasm, or a slight joke making fun of the prosecutor, but it was said too seriously. Regardless, Edgeworth only could look at him from the corner of his eye with clenched teeth. "-Zheng Fa is known for having a pretty turbulent sky... among other things"

Edgeworth sighed, mentally wishing that day could be a lucky one.

After six hours of flight, they finally came to Lang's natal country. It was fresh air for the agent to hear the screams from all those non-Zhengense people in the airplane. The shaking had been rough and sudden, even for the captain. Like his natal and lovely Zheng Fa was. The event had improved his mood, so he finally laughed at all of those newbie cubs.

Curious for not hearing Edgeworth's scream, he looked at him, waiting to see a frozen face in terror, but he only found the man sleeping. Or that was what he thought at first.

Thinking about it, he realised that it was unlikely for the Prosecutor to sleep in those conditions, considering the fear he had shown few hours ago. Even more, such a rough shake should have awoken him all at once.

On second thoughts, with a slight worry for Edgeworth's pale face, he approached him in order to check his pulse. He touched his hands, tight and cold, and felt an empty blow hitting his stomach.

Putting aside any soft movement, he tried to undo the cravat and check the pulse there, but the damn thing got stuck. Growling, he sneaked some fingers into the cravat to reach that point in the throat. It was a calm pulse that stopped his tension. He sighed and returned to his usual self. Then, he slapped the prosecutor many times with a gentle touch, but it did not awake him. He even grasped Edgeworth's hair and examined every detail on his pale face. His lips were lacking colour.

However, he had to stop. The Capitan informed everyone to prepare for the landing, fastening their seat belts. So, Lang did it with the prosecutor's and then with his own, and only when they finally were on the ground, Lang continued his checking on the passed out man. He did not want to attract unnecessary attention just arriving to his country.

When he checked again, Edgeworth's breath and pulse increased all at once, and his whole body tensed. Even more worried this time, Lang assumed it was going to be a convulsion. Faster than ever, he broke the buttons of the prosecutor's waistcoat and tried, for second time, to undo the cravat with a violent movement.

"Hey, hey!" he repeated in a whisper.

The hands around his neck and the perception of lack of air mixed with his old memories, made Edgeworth return to that fateful episode in his life. Confused, as he always was when passing out, pushed Yogi violently away from him. The old man hit his lumbar against the seat in front of them and then he would hear that scream again, over and over, but...

Edgeworth blinked, heavily breathing, and saw the agent at his front rubbing his back while giving him a silent yet questioning look. He ran his fingers through his hair, and looked down to his clothes. The waistcoat was wrecked, and he could feel his cravat was a mess. Thankfully, his deduction arrived to the clear conclusion that the whole situation had been into his mind.

There had not been any Yogi there, that was not an elevator, and an earthquake had never happened.

"A-Agent... I. I- My apologies... A-Are you well?"

"I was who was going to ask you that... What happened with you?."

"M-My deep apologies." Edgeworth did not make eye contact with the agent, and unfastened his belt as quick as his trembling pulse allowed him to.

Still concerned, Lang frowned but went easy on the prosecutor. "Well, at least the colour went back to your face."

Only Pesu's low cries filled the atmosphere between them.

Lang breathed deeply when they reached the entrance. A strong wind was blowing through the buildings, sneaking inside his own jacket, making it flutter, as well as his hair. The smile had returned to his face, and holding the pet carrier, he pointed up at the sky.

"See?. That's the Sky of Zheng Fa. It's even better at night, with the big moon over you. You will see, my friend" he said to Pesu, who barked several times. The poor thing moved her paws in a strange way, and Lang did not need more to understand: she had her paws numbed. "Hey, sleepy pretty boy, do you have the leash?" he said, looking back to Edgeworth who was behind him, walking slower than usual with his luggage, and feeling a strong headache going ahead.

Without saying a word, the prosecutor stopped and tried to recover his breath. That country was going to be harder than he thought. After some deep lungfuls, he took the leash from his briefcase and gave it to Lang, who grinned at him. "too much height for you?"

"I-I... I would appreciate if you... restrain yourself... of any joke. I'm not used to... such an altitude."

Lang opened the pet carrier and put the leash on Pesu.

Joyful, the dog jumped around and barked to Edgeworth, who remained in silence watching her fondly.

At least someone was happy for such a journey.


	8. Chapter 8

They went to the apartment that Interpol gave to the prosecutor, he took a shower, and rested in the bed for a while as he could hear Lang and Pesu playing in the living room.

The lack of the usual amount of oxygen in the air was treating him badly. It would take him less than a week to get used to it, but until that, he would feel dizzy, tired and unable of running without thinking his lungs were solid stones.

Thus, in order to give his body a kind break, he was resting on the bed.

Suddenly, not knowing why or how, he saw his father at his side, watching the Steel Samurai in the television placed before them.

He sat in the bed and looked his own hands. Big ones, with long fingers and soft skin. He was not a kid any more, but his father was as just he used to be, wearing his gabardine and hat, with those wrinkles in his frown and in the corners of his mouth.

He could not help but smile. It was his father.

"This program brings to youngsters many remarkable issues for discussing." the prosecutor said pointing at the television.

"Are you serious, son?"

"Of course Dad. By looking at the Samurai, you might associate him with the symbol of the Right thing to be done in every aspect of life."

"But... it's for kids" Gregory's face showed a clear disbelief.

"It doesn't matter. As I said, the Samurai fights against the Evil Magistrate: the biggest corruption in this world. And while doing so, the Samurai, sometimes, uses tricky plans and wields his spear as a symbol of-"

"Oh, look at that... Who is she?" His father interrupted his son's verbosity when that pinkish girl appeared on the screen.

"She is the Pink Princess. She loves the Samurai, and…" Miles stopped himself for a second. "...they are happy."

Gregory faced him with a puzzled gesture. "Are you feeling good, son? You look pale."

Edgeworth stared at the television. The image of the Steel Samurai, with spiky hair, embracing the Pink Princess turned red all of a sudden.

_Blood_. It was blood. What he never stopped seeing since he was a child.

He looked down towards his own body. He had blood leaking trough his own jacket, straining his waistcoat, his shirt, his chest.

He palpated his body in an attempt to find the wound, but everything was fine. Bleeding, but healthy.

From nowhere, _that_ gun, appeared in his bloody hands. As if it were a charm, his fingers held the weapon and placed its muzzle on his father's temple, feeling its cold metal on his own.

"Run, Dad. Run!" he screamed, unable to control his hands.

Crimson red blood started to leak everywhere, even on his father's glasses.

Again, the scream, the earthquake, the endless fear, the darkness.

The deaf sound of the trigger stopped every drop of blood, even those that kept suspended in the air.

The whole world had been stopped with that sound, except the falling of his father's body.

"Dad! Please, No! Dad!."

Hardly breathing, with sweat cooling his temples, Edgeworth awoke confused. Only when he focused his eyes and reality turned a bit more defined; he saw Lang at the door frame, giving him a look mixed with surprise and annoyance.

"Are you fine, Mr Prosecutor?"

"U-uh... I-I guess I am. I believe I fell asleep."

Lang raised his eyebrows and lifted his chin.

Averting his eyes, Edgeworth rubbed his temples, with the certainty that he had just given a nonsensical answer, but what could he do?. His dizziness was as evident as Lang's worries.

The agent sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

He had been playing with Pesu in order to give the prosecutor time enough to rest and recover from the travel and, mainly, from the height difference. However, the tranquil game stopped all of a sudden when he heard the fancy boy's scream. As his first and usual reaction, Lang ran towards the room, touching his gun hidden inside the jacket. Maybe the bad guys had discovered the prosecutor before even inserting him into the Interpol.

However, the tension was cut off when reaching the door. He saw the prosecutor moving violently on the bed, calling for his... father?.

The fancy annoying man... had turned into a child needing his hen?.

Lang could have made fun of him, could have started an endless torture of shame; but he remained silent. Scattered information he had recollected time before Franziska were part of the special prosecutors in the Interpol, made sense all at once. That old case, the father's death, his mentor's twisting, the stairs, the blister. Maybe everything was related to that, after all.

"So, _sleeping pretty,_ we can't be here all day. We need to go-"

"I Know. My ap-" Edgeworth stopped his own words midway. Until that moment he did not realise he was panting. "-My apologies"

"Tch. I will wait for you in the car. Don't forget to bring all the personal objects we have talked." the agent said and left the apartment quickly.

Edgeworth sat at the edge of the bed, opening and closing his hands. He was still feeling the gun's weight, the ending song of the Steel Samurai echoing in his ears, the dampness of the bloody shirt on his body.

Pesu ran from the living room and jumped onto the bed, licking his hands and asking for attention frantically.

"My Lady, I also must apologize to you, I've not been talkative enough-" he sighed, annoyed for his short breathing "-to you. And probably, I will remain silent for several days."

He stood up from the bed, and slowly, opened a suitcase in the same place it was. It would be madness to put it on the bed. Inside, he looked for all the elements Lang had listed him during the travel. Personal papers with his own identity, personal computers and mobiles, personal photos, diaries, agendas and everything related with his soon-to-be-deleted identity. Even those letters from _him_ should be given away. Even those letters that helped him so silently and deeply. He only left inside the suitcase the unique mobile he gave to Gumshoe. Whatever they were going to do with his personal things, that mobile would remain there.

He did not want to give the same image than years before. He was _working_ now, not _running away_. And mentally, he kept saying himself the same thing over and over.

He put the personal objects in his briefcase and left the apartment. Thankfully, it was on the first floor, so going down by using the stairs did not take much time nor effort, though when he reached the car and sat inside, his breathing was a mess again.

"Take this-" said the agent who was biting again the chess piece in his mouth. Edgeworth frowned and looked down to Lang's hands. There was a small oxygen tank with a mask, and many candies made of a plant used to fight mountain sickness. "-These things are sold all over the country for tourists. You can know who is foreign by observing this." he laughed openly pointing at the mask, "There is even a modern saying these days: _Recognizing a puppy by the mask_"

While Lang turned on the car, Edgeworth pressed the mask over his face and recovered his breath in less than a couple of minutes. Certainly, it had been a great relief.

Calmer due to his breathing recovering its normal rhythm, he realised Lang was driving the car slower than everyone else, and he chuckled while eating a candy.

Everything had been a small detail he did not miss.

* * *

They arrived at the main building of Interpol in Zheng Fa. It was outside the city, driving almost an hour through no road.

They walked into a high security entrance, with metal detectors, cameras, biometric measuring scanners and guards. This time, Lang accompanied the prosecutor through the stairs until they reached the floor where the formal entry into the organization would become effective.

At the secretary's office, a serious woman took the bag with Edgeworth's personal objects and put them all into a metallic box. It would be archived in the subsoil of the building where an extensive bank of agents' personal objects was placed. As a replacement of all those objects, the Interpol provided him equivalent ones with the assigned identity.

Edgeworth felt a bit disappointed when he was told to not contact any person from his previous identity unless he would inform them first. It all made perfect sense, but still, looking at his new mobile without numbers was an odd feeling.

His personal computer was replaced with a slimmer one, and his paper agenda with a digital one. The feeling that probably those elements had already been bugged by the Interpol was crystal clear in his mind. And also it made sense too... how could such an organization not watch over every agent? Corruption could rot the most noble officer. And yet, with all those precautions, people like Yew was able to sneak into it.

Thankfully, he was not used to make personal notes as a diary, and that was a relief. He would live in distress, thinking who could be reading them in the subsoil.

What he regretted the most were his photos. They were few, but the memories they used to bring back, and the certainty that the image plastered in there could not be erased into the fading nature of the remembrance, made the fact hard and unfair... but it was what he wanted. It was the correct thing to do.

His ability would be useful in these cases; he had already confirmed it in the smuggling ring case.

But this time, his identity was going to be erased. This time, Miles Edgeworth was choosing death, again.

The woman gave him some credit cards and more fake documents under that name: Manfred Wolff. He would never get used to that name. He knew it from his deepest feelings.

The first thing he saw when the bureaucracy finished, was Lang's smirk, who had been awaiting him outside the office.

"So, Mr Prosecutor _Wolff..._ wanna go to see the city?"

Lang was openly more cheerful than ever. It was not hard to guess that Zheng Fa filled its people with mighty energy.

"I guess." His response was apathetic.

They returned to the car, and Lang drove slowly as he showed him very important and different points in the city: the main centre, the park, the cemetery. Edgeworth learnt every place fast, and asked to come back to his apartment. He still needed to rest and put his luggage in order.

Of course, Lang did not miss the strange behaviour of the Prosecutor, so he tried to go easy on him when they stopped in front of the building, "They are going to give you a month to acclimate yourself to the height, the city, its people. After that, we'll start the investigation. I'll pass by your place tomorrow with all the information we have for now."

"Very well..." dryly, Edgeworth said from the co-pilot seat, but he did not make an attempt to go out. Serious, his eyes were fixated ahead, looking at some lost point of the road.

Lang waited for a couple of seconds, and looked at the prosecutor with a puzzled gesture. _Hah, now he has another snobby thing inside of cars?_. He was going to make fun of the prosecutor, just to force a reaction, when Edgeworth's words interrupted his plan, "Agent... may I ask you a personal question?."

"Uh? What's it?"

"Your current identity is not your actual one, is it?"

Lang raised an eyebrow and squinted. He had seen the effect a million times. Talking about a thing had nothing to do with living the thing itself. People would accept to change their identities without hesitation, explaining that it was not a big deal, but after the change; tangible, real, firm, the strange feeling was taking part of your personality. The required isolation did not help them either.

As a bitten and ripped off limb, the identity was mutilated, and the effect would increase over time. Not everyone would resist the hard separation from their past self. That was why recruiting new agents was always a good idea.

Their personalities, after the change, would not remain as before, no matter what. How the change would affect them, well, that was the part that Lang never liked. All of them were a Pandora's box.

Lang rotated his neck before answering, "Lang family has been inside the defence forces since Zheng Fa was an Empire. My ancestor Zi Lang was a part of it, I mean, in its old shape, of course. My family always expected their cubs would protect this country-"

"That's an elaborated way to state the fact that your family has the privilege to preserve their identity within the system"

"You could say that..." Lang shrugged, "But, it's not pretty accurate-" Edgeworth finally looked at Lang with a slight frown. "-A new cub cannot understand how complex is the lair. You will note the rules over time... be quiet until then".

Edgeworth sighed and nodded briefly. With a professional farewell, he went out of the car and entered into the building.

Lost in thoughts, he stepped inside his apartment and only when Pesu jumped to his legs, he came back into reality.

He used the oxygen tank for some minutes and then he started to tidy all his clothing.

But his mind was thinking of something more. A slight symbol of rebellion. The mobile he had left to Gumshoe was the only thing he did not give to Interpol. He was going to check it when another train of thoughts worried him. The apartment, in fact, was rented by the Interpol as well. Bugs and probably even cameras would be placed in every nook and cranny of that flat. Perhaps if they were aware of that phone, which sole function would be the setting of a communicator in case of an emergency, they would certainly break into the apartment and take it away without permission.

And once again, like those old feelings born due to the letters in the past, the same feelings came across time and got stuck in him deeply when he thought of the phone. He would not give up on that mobile, no matter what. It would remain there, in secret, avoiding all the curious eyes and ears, in the same way that many things in his life did.

He was not a young boy any more. And he knew very well the system, enough to understand that this tiny whim would never be in middle of the operation. He was a professional, after all.

While he was arranging the clothes from the suitcase into the closet, he smuggled the mobile into a gabardine pocket. Every time he would like to check on the object, he could take the gabardine from the closet and wear it without any suspicions on him. Then, he would go far away from those eyes and ears, and use it in some dark street, at a park, somewhere.

He smiled full of confidence and also, due to the irony in the situation. A prosecutor who fought against a criminal ring was smuggling things into Interpol. He almost heard in his mind the unstoppable laugh of Calisto Yew.

When he finished, his breathing was a complete mess again. He threw his tired body on the bed and rested quietly. He felt Pesu sneaking among his clothes and arms, forcing himself to smile. Maybe he would not talk to Pesu either. But probably that would be suspecting. After all, the Interpol would have that information about his habits. If he altered them, they would probably be aware of his own knowledge about the bugged room.

"My lady" he said, trying to get used to the idea of being listened. Pesu crawled from his own arm to his chest and reached his face, licking his cheek as her tail was wagging franticly. She was so happy to be talked to again.

Edgeworth petted her head and let her rest over his chest, smelling that eucalyptus fragrance so fresh and cheering. The scent, warmth and weight from another living creature were quite rare things to sense in his life. He was not allowed to such useless needs, though he always found a way to taste them in the slightest and most hidden forms, even for himself.

Pesu licked again his face, as if she knew he was heading into dark thoughts, and made him chuckle. As a reward, Edgeworth hugged the dog, forcing himself to forget about the bugs.

* * *

"So, Mr Wolff-" said Lang with a grin on his face "-this woman was supposed to be related to a case of human traffic... but, like it's been happening in the last few months, the person has no identity."

Edgeworth observed the whole scene, where everything was impeccable except for the bloody corpse.

"Are there signs of fighting on the body?"

"None. This woman was stabbed here-" said Lang with his hand into the trouser pockets "-and died from loss of blood...". He looked at the body for a brief moment, squatted close to it and joined his hands as a silent pray for the woman's soul. "There is no forgiveness for those damn monsters that stole not only her life, but also her persona."

Edgeworth remained in silence for a prudential time, and then, asked Lang to move the corpse and see her face.

"You are not going to like it..." the agent warned.

Edgeworth wrinkled his nose when Lang turned her around and both men looked to the faceless woman. All of her features were wiped out in a violent burning way.

"I assume this is the reason why she can't be identified?"

"You could say that..." Lang slowly moved the body to its former position, and before standing up, he spread more silent prayers over it. "We already made a DNA analysis and saved it in the main database of the case. There is no clue about her family for matching... so it's kind of useless. As you can see, we can't identify her by just looking at her. She is an… anonymous person. A perfect crime, because the victim has no face nor way to know who she was."

"There is no such thing as a perfect crime, agent" Edgeworth's attitude was smug, yet serious.

"Uh-hum..." He said with a clear disbelief of what he was listening from Von Karma's student.

Edgeworth spent days looking into archives in the prosecutor's office of Zhen Fa. In the last two years, the missing people rate had been increased in the country. The police had been dealing with those cases from a long time, without results; but when part of their officers started to disappear as well, Interpol had to interfere.

The organization took control of such problematic case, considering it was related to the smuggling ring. But that hypothesis was never clear for sure.

Edgeworth, as well as Franziska and many new prosecutors incorporated to the organization around the world, were clueless. The increment of the missing people over the years was a hidden number in the world, but it was something that had to be solved as soon as possible. The statistical predictions were frightful, and it would be a matter of time before such irregularities in the system would come up into the media.

However, there was something nastier beyond the case, something that Lang suspected even when he could not describe it with words; after all, he had a nose for smelling that kind of things.

Edgeworth gave to Interpol the hypothesis that probably the smuggling ring was a masquerade for a bigger issue, but he lacked of any proof. Over time, the only evidence that showed something dark was happening were the faceless corpses that were found rarely.

The case was deeply hard to investigate.

He closed the file, rubbed his temples, and sat in the chair. He looked around the office with a slight feeling of disappointment. It was a standard office, with white walls and wooden furniture, which was completely lacking relaxing places. There were no vases with flowers, nor books to let his mind rest while reading, and of course, not his favourite action figure. He sighed. He wanted to watch the new season, but it was not coming to Zheng Fa until the next year. Not that his actual work was not enough to make him unable for watching the series, but it was a shame.

Opening his briefcase, he snorted when he remembered that there was no more secret compartments with photos in them.

He did not know why, but every time he perceived that feeling growing inside, that kind of emptiness and melancholia, he used to remember _him_.

He threw the bag aside, and kept rubbing his temples, with his elbows leant on the table.

He was tired. So tired.

A year had passed, and the only thing he was doing every day was reading endless case files related to the impossibility to determine the identity of a random body. From time to time, he had to walk into a crime scene, but nothing made sense. It was always the same useless thing.

He had reached a point where he was not able to remember more places, names or the description about how a certain body was found.

Where had that corpse been found?. How many times had passed since that person was killed? How was it possible for a body to remain anonymous in that way?. How the system, so invasive as it was, could not have an answer in its huge data-base?. How were those people? What kind of dreams they had? What they thought? What they felt? What they did?.

_Why?._

He also was tired of the faceless photos. He needed some lively eyes looking at him from the picture. Some smiles, some gestures.

He left the office and went to his apartment. When he opened the door, Pesu ran into him, as usual. It was the perfect excuse.

He put the leash on her, changed his coat for that special gabardine, and went out to the near park.

Pesu walked as elegant as her master until they reached an empty bench. He turned on the mobile and looked inside it, searching for lost calls.

Nothing.

It was good news, even though he felt disappointed. Listening that good-for-nothing police's jabbering was something he never suspected he would miss.

After checking it several times, he turned the mobile off, to keep the battery alive for a long time. There was not a completely safe place to do so without triggering the slightest suspicion on him. However, he knew that Interpol would discover it sooner or later.

_Ah. Once again that feeling of uselessness. _

He put the phone in his pocket and observed the park.

It was winter, and the cold was harder that he expected at such height. His lips were a bit damaged due to the low humid of the climate, and sometimes his skin felt tight. He took out his hands from the pockets and looked at them. They were quite dry, a bit cracked all along the fingers and the back of the palm was red, despite the several products he used to apply for hydrating his skin.

The cold forced him to put them back into the pockets, but the image remained in his mind... and then, like his usual whimsical dance of thoughts, _his_ hands appeared as a blurry memory, caressing a bracelet.

Once again, in that hazy misty remembrances, his eyes travelled along that fingers to the wrist, over the shirt, cornering the shoulder and climbing to the neck, wondering what scent could be smelled in such hidden spot. The image turned sharper from there; the ear, the jaw, the chin, the cheek... and there they were, those eyes defying him, the eyes he was not allowed to look at.

The mist disappeared all of a sudden, and he was dragged into reality when Pesu put her head on his thigh and kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye, in a silent demand to be petted.

"My dear Lady, could I offer you what you are asking me when we return to our home? The cold is quite hard for my hands"

Pesu fixated her eyes on Edgeworth's for a brief moment, then she climbed the bench and rested her head over a pocket of the gabardine, where Edgeworth's hand was.

He chuckled, proud of having such a clever companion, and moved his fingers from inside the pocket. The movement was enough for Pesu.


	9. Chapter 9

It was three in the morning, and from the cup of tea placed on the table was coming out an old tea scent.

He was wearing a red wine dressing gown which had scattered everywhere on its fabric the small image of the Steel Samurai face His fingers ran through his hair, clearing up his forehead of his fringe while reading papers.

He was seated on the sofa, piles of case files were placed all around the living room, forcing Pesu to walk around extremely careful, so she would not anger his master because of a frantic run to his lap. Edgeworth was only reading, trying to forget what his mind had brought back to him on the bed, few hours ago.

Although he had overcome the daily nightmares, it was inevitable to have a bad dream from time to time. Stress was always a precise trigger to bring them up.

When he felt Pesu climbing quite carefully onto his legs, he moved the papers aside and smiled at her.

"My lady, accept my apologies, for I have matters to attend to. You should let me alone..."

She whimpered and tilted her head, moving her tail slowly.

Edgeworth sighed, knowing he was weak before her. There was nothing he could do but lift her, and so he did. She licked his face happily, and then sat on his lap after several turns. Petting her with a hand and reading the papers using the other was the way he let time pass.

Many hours after dawn, the sound of the bell rang. With a deep voice, almost forgetting he was inside his apartment and not at his office, in a dry tone, he allowed the entrance of whoever was on the other side of the door.

"Come in"

Lang entered with several boxes in his hands, closing the door with his feet. It was like he was deeply fond of slamming doors.

Pesu looked at the man, and as if a demon had possessed her, she jumped off from Edgeworth's lap and ran through the piles of papers. Several of them fell apart, being scattered everywhere. Edgeworth frowned and called her out with a firm tone of disappointment. But the dog did not care for her master's anger and jumped around Lang.

"Hey Pesu, how's it going, huh? The fancy boy is boring you? Look at you with all that energy!" Lang laughed openly and put the boxes in a side of the messed room, then he observed the prosecutor, who after calling his pet, got his eyes fixated on the papers again.

Lang could not overlook the dark circles under Edgeworth's eyes, the constant rubbing on his temples with his fingers hidden by the fringe, and the big empty teapot showing a tea-trace all over the container.

Maybe it had been the deadly silence or the lack of any movement considering the wild person that had passed trough his door. Whatever the reason, after some time, Edgeworth had to raise his eyes from the papers.

_What now?_, his mind repeated when he saw Lang smirking at him, with his hands in his pockets, crossing his ankles while leaning against the wall, close to where he had left the boxes.

"You look like you got no sleep."

"I believe I lost track of time, I've been analysing the information since... yesterday" said Edgeworth, rubbing his eyes. A silent headache was coming up from his frown, spreading above his eyebrows.

"In a dressing gown?, hah" Lang snorted in that tone he always used when making fun of the fancy boy.

Edgeworth rubbed his face with both hands. He was disgusted, maybe. He definitely did not want to deal with the agent at that moment, because over that year, and during the constant notifications to him about sudden faceless corpses appearing all over the country, Lang had acknowledged part of his habits. And dressing a gown was something he would never do, unless it was bedtime. "I may ask you what are you waiting for, Agent Lang"

"Yeah. Here-" he said gesturing with his chin towards the boxes by his side in the ground, "-more files... they are from neighbour countries." His smirk disappeared., "This is a plague..."

"How are the authorities managing to hide all these cases from the media?".

"Well, not all are hidden. Many of them are..." Lang clenched his teeth "...made up".

"This is madness." the prosecutor said rubbing his forehead with his palm and resting his back against the sofa, closing his tired eyes. Since several days ago, he was perceiving the characteristic burning in them after many hours of reading without break.

Pesu was still close to Lang, waiting for him to kneel and pat her. He just looked at her and grinned, leaning over the top-box of the pile of boxes he had just brought in.

"Mr. Prosecutor, take this"

Miles barely could open his eyes when his first reaction towards the thing that Lang had just thrown at him, was putting his arms in front of his face before a strong fresh scent reached his nostrils. Something had fallen on his lap, and it was not Pesu. In fact, it was a bunch of pink flowers.

Blinking at first, Edgeworth observed them surprised. Then, he took them into his hands and brought the bunch near to his face. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of those pink flowers. The fragrance certainly had smoothed his irritated mood, and some strange peaceful sensation cleansed his mind, making that looming headache diffuser.

"Their scent is remarkable. What are they called?"

"Azaleas. They are pretty common here. And they are just as fancy as you, heh" said the agent, making fun of the colour.

"And which is the reason of them?"

"Tsk. Are you serious?. Did you actually forget your birthday?"

Edgeworth's face remained immutable, but something had hit him deeply inside. He lowered his look to the bunch on his lap. It was true, he had forgotten it entirely. But what he had forgotten the most was the feeling to be remembered in such way, to receive a personal gift, to be a human beyond his prosecuting functions. He remembered those letters, that one sent for his birthday with a postcard inside of it which resembled a scene from _In a Grove_. The most simple and meaningful gift he had received in his young times.

Snorting for the weird reaction from the fancy boy, Lang knelt in front of Pesu and lifted her. The dog writhed in his arms, unable to restrain her happiness.

"I-I appreciate the gift. You have my sincere thanks" Edgeworth said, standing up from the sofa and going to the kitchen where he took a vase with water in order to place the bunch in the living room table.

"No problem."

"I must say it was a surprise. Such detail, considering the... complex teamwork we are." The prosecutor was still looking at the flowers, caressing some petals.

"You and your fancy way to say the most trivial things" Lang mocked him, petting Pesu. "I've told you time ago, I appreciate my men."

"I should remind you I'm not your subordinate" Edgeworth said quickly, with stony eyes and a slight frown.

Lang looked at him for a second, and snorted without saying a word. He just kept his attention on Pesu. The gesture annoyed Edgeworth, knowing it was another of those mockeries that the agent was so fond of.

"Very well then. I believe you did not come here only to give me flowers."

"Oh, c'mon, Mr. Wolff. Don't get me wrong... Do you think I'm so fast?" Once again, Lang smirked at him, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Edgeworth frowned, completely lost.

_Fast? What in the world has speed to do with flowers?_. He sighed frustrated and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was so tired to think straight. "I also would appreciate if you restrain yourself from calling me that way in private."

More than a year had passed, but as he had guessed at the moment he read that name on his passport, there would be no way to get used to that fake identity.

"Uh?" Lang raised an eyebrow and his smirk disappeared all of a sudden. Edgeworth squinted him. _Did_ _I say something wrong?_. His mind was tired enough to understand the minimal social protocol with a wild old werewolf, so he just explained before conjectures or misunderstandings could go further "Wolff. Just avoid referring to me in such way."

"Oh, that." Lang smirked again after a short relief. "Well, I can call you Manf-"

"No." His voice was louder than he expected and firmer than his usual mannerisms in trials.

"Sooo, the cub likes my nicknames after all, right?". Lang laughed shaking his shoulders.

Edgeworth sighed again and crossed his arms over his chest. "...Coming back to what I've been saying. Why are you here?".

"Sorry." It took him a minute to calm down his laugh, "I brought you some more files and information that needed to be told personally. You know, there is no safer way."

"Very well. Please take a seat, I will prepare more tea." Edgeworth took the empty teapot and went to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Lang dodged several file piles and reached the table, where he made himself comfortable. By taking a look at the living room, even when it was overwhelmed by papers, they were stocked in meticulous piles, separated one from another by almost the same distance. Even the piles were straight towers.

During his detailed observation, he felt a hairy fluffy head on his thigh, and a paw hit his leg requiring immediate attention. Lang chuckled and lifted the dog, looking straight into her eyes when he put her in his lap. "Did you note the pretty boy a little weird these days? I mean, weirder than usual." he asked her. She just put her ears down and lowered her head.

"I am _not _weird" said a voice coming from the kitchen.

Edgeworth appeared holding a tray with a pair of clean fine teacups and the teapot filled with red and steaming tea.

"Tch. You can't fool me".

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there is no use in pretending with me." Edgeworth looked at him puzzled, placing the tray on the table. "I'm the one that looks at your face every day, got it?"

Edgeworth deepened his frown but remained in silence while he was pouring the tea. He slid a teacup towards Lang and sat aside from him, smelling the steam coming from his own teacup.

"Explain what brings you here, Agent."

"Changing topics, like always... well." Lang rolled his eyes, but did not push further. "It's nothing formal yet. It's not even an official information. But..." his face changed all of a sudden, being darker and serious. "...I know one of my former men was found yesterday... faceless" he swallowed, glowering at Edgeworth.

"How do you know?"

"I could recognize all my men even among ashes. He was deleted in the whole data-base. His family records were _changed._"

Edgeworth almost choke with his sip, "Do you mean they can alter all the family members' profile? That's unbelievable."

"We didn't know about this before, because we never got an identity for sure. But they messed with the wrong man. I know everything about each man under my command."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Edgeworth could assure that Lang's canines were sharper than ever. "At least this is the first victim which identity is known"

"It's useless if they can change the data-base at their will. They even messed with my own profile-", without even thinking about it, Lang bit once that damaged zone in the back of his hand before continuing the explanation. "-I never had ninety-eight men. They were always ninety-nine..." _And her. _He had to stop his tongue when a dim memory of a pair of wild red eyes crossed his mind. "...those bastards will know how it feels to get poisoned fangs sunk in their necks."

Both of them remained in silence. There was nothing to say, nothing to do for now. The case was the personification of Madness itself.

During the conversation, Lang had turned the teacup in order to place the handle outside, letting him surround it with both hands. He was used to simple and handle-less mugs, which were not only typical in Zheng Fa, but also very useful to keep your hands warm while drinking.

After rubbing his eyes one more time, Edgeworth looked at Lang's fingers. It was a waste of design; handling the teacup in such invasive way. Perhaps he should have offered him a traditional chawan. He kept sipping his tea while observing. The left hand showed old blemishes and bite scars in that spot that Lang had recently started to bite as a habit. One of those, looked newer and painful, with deep teeth marks imprinting the skin and forming a scab. It seemed that it had bled.

In silence, they drank the tea, lost in their own thoughts. Little by little, maybe because of the tea, maybe because Pesu was forcing him to come into reality while she was tickling his neck; Lang smoothed his anger faster than usual. Almost finishing his tea, and biting the border of the teacup as a way to release the anxiety, he looked at the prosecutor. The man had his eyes fixated on the flowers, and probably he was enjoying the scent, which had already spread through the whole living room.

_How could the fancy boy be so cold and controlled?. _

The silence was abruptly broken by a porcelain noise. Pesu jumped off from Lang's lap and looked at him from the ground, showing a disgusted attitude that resembled her master. Surprised, both men looked each other for a while.

"T-That... was part of my dearest porcelain tea set, a unique British version."

"Tch-" Lang spit the pieces inside his mouth and put them all in the plate. "-Western things... it was not enough having a useless handle, it was made of paper too."

"This is unbelievable. You have just destroyed it with your teeth..."

Edgeworth directed his eyes towards the small plate that contained the remnants of the teacup and the pieces that were scattered around it. Looking at the broken teacup, so beautiful before, so wretched now, gave him a deja-vu, a deep feeling mixed with the sudden melancholia that certain symbols used to bring up into his mind.

"Bah, don't make that face. If you fancy so much this set I will get you a new one, some of my men were assigned to England..."

"No. It's not necessary. After all... each time we earn a delicate beautiful thing, we must keep in mind they are destined to be broken..."

Frowning, Lang scrutinized the man whose look kept lost in the pieces. Definitely, the prosecutor was strange. Lang sighed, and trying to go easy on the fancy boy for a change, he embraced that melancholic mood. "Not only delicate things can be broken". The phrase sounded even strange for himself, like he had loosened too much. He blamed his tongue when Edgeworth blinked and looked straight into his eyes. "What's going on with you, pretty boy?" asked the agent.

"I barely can understand what you are meaning by-"

"Tch. Don't play those games with me... I'm not in the mood-" Lang sighed, trying to control the deep frustration inside of him for losing one of his men the previous day. He put his left arm behind the backrest, and extended the right one, with his palm down on the table. He got tired of beating the bushes. "-I've seen this before. It's the fake identity, isn't it?-" Edgeworth kept drinking as if he was hearing something without listening at it. "-_Manfred Wolff_." The name, pronounced so loud and bold, lighted a flame of anger inside him. Edgeworth glowered at Lang, who grinned triumphant. "-I knew it."

"It's not _that._.. entirely-" Edgeworth said at the end of a long silence, turning his face towards the flowers in the vase. He needed to admire them and use the strange effect they had on him. "-But I shall not deny I miss my surname... perhaps quite a lot." He swallowed, feeling tickles in his belly.

It was more than just a name. It was his photos, his numbers, his memories plastered into objects, as a proof that those memories were not only dreams or nightmares. Despite knowing he was not quite fond of viewing pictures and living in the past, it was a completely different thing to know those objects where always there, for him, wherever he would require them. It was the freedom to use them or not, it was also the safety to know they were there.

But now, all those things were forbidden. Even a simple glimpse to his father's photo was not allowed. And somehow, he needed that to realize how he got used to those small things which were part of his silent way to feel and care about his people. Small gestures that nobody knew but himself. And sometimes, even he was not aware of them. They were small, selfish gestures that would remain secret until the end of his days.

"So that's not all, right?." Lang remained silent until Edgeworth looked back to him "Do you miss Japan?"

"It's not-"

"I got it. '_it's not that entirely_', yeah. I know." Lang said in a mockery tone.

Edgeworth sighed. "I-I left some unsolved issues behind... that's all" the feeling of being exposed reached its peak.

Lang could not avoid to frown in disbelief, "Be honest..."

"I am."

"Then, spit it out, what happened with your tongue and your fancy speech?"

Edgeworth's face changed all of a sudden, and his neutral gesture hardened into a deep frown, "Agent Lang, I believe those things are not of your concern."

The words had been rough enough for a man who was trying to understand him, to approach him, but the sensation of being cornered by a person who was not allowed to know such things, had prevailed.

"Tch, enough of that smug attitude of yours" Lang said, standing up from the seat "I'm done with you." then, he looked at Pesu "I feel for you, girl" the dog whined "-so, I got it. Get some rest, Mr. Prosecutor, tomorrow we are going to travel far away to check on some nasty funks. For now, I need to do some procedures..."

Without looking at the prosecutor, and after a brief wave with his hand over his shoulder, Lang left the apartment.

Something had hurt him.

An alpha being rejected when he was caring about lost cubs was something any alpha would resent deeply. But probably, Lang was making the worst mistake ever: not all cubs were made for living in a pack. Many lonely wolves were unable to accept the simple rule of being like a family.

He was grumbling about that when his own train of thoughts ended in a painful question.

_Where is my own pack?._

The slam of the door did not stop Edgeworth in observing the flowers, remembering what Franziska had said the previous day he left Japan, in an unexpected message left in his answering machine. At that time, it made no sense at all. But now... his birthday explained it.

The message was a slight reproach for not knowing anything about him for... ten years. And not because they lost contact.

Every month they used to call each other, just to know how they were doing, by asking some favour or information.

A couple of months ago, Franziska had called him just to ask about a memory from their childhood: the colour of a certain room, the name of the gardener, the forgotten book in the corner of their library.

Everything was a good excuse for listening to each other's voice. Both of them were aware about this pretending, but never dared to question it. It was a mutual secret, like so many others they had, that would die with them.

Being Von Karmas was not easy task, not even between them.

His mind was tired, dealing with memories mixed with wishes and sounds combined with scents. He truly needed fresh air, and so he went for it.

He took a shower, changed his clothes into his typical suit, and grabbed the gabardine.

Ignoring Pesu's complaints for not being included in the stroll, he left the apartment with quick steps, not sure where to go. Perhaps this was a symbolic runaway, the most useless runaway he had ever performed, because he was trapped between a painful name and a ridiculous surname.

Once again, he was going to live a fake life, something he had promised himself to never do again. But how had he ended thinking in such a way?. He was a grown man already, and he had chosen this job... so why? Why this childish attitude of his?.

Many streets passed until he found a dark corner. He leant against the wall, and took his mobile out. There were no messages, same as the last week. Same as the whole year. Truly, were there no relevant news during a whole year?.

He entered into the agenda menu, and looked for _his_ number. However, it was pointless. The mobile was only related to Gumshoe. And he should call him _only_ in case of emergency... but this fear growing inside him, this monster strangling him was not an emergency?. He could... but he must not call.

After some hesitations, he turned it off and put it back into the pocket. There was no use in sentimentalisms. He was a grown person, without unproductive needs.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes while he mentally kept repeating himself what helped him to survive his whole life after that fateful day.

_What you want is irrelevant. _

_Accept the fact that some things are not meant to be. _

* * *

The car turned in a corner at high speed. The wheels cried, the force inside pushed him against the door, but he increased a bit more the acceleration. He left the windows completely down, so a wild wind was torturing his ears. The deafening buzz was all he could hear, with his hair hitting his face like whips.

The red king in his mouth moved from a corner to the other, being bitten in the process.

He could not deny he got used to the prosecutor after almost two years of daily work. He could detest prosecutors and courts, but Franziska and this fancy boy were his own exceptions.

Sis was incredibly capable, and nobody would mess with her. And _that_ was something he had respected deeply. It was like finding an alpha from another pack. While those packs were not fighting each other, the peace would remain and the alphas would enjoy their mutual presence.

On the other hand, the fancy boy was a lonely cub, instead of an alpha. Cubs were always a pain in the ass, but he had a thing for this one. It was one of those problematic cubs that used to end running away alone through the hill, far from any pack. And that was a sad ending he did not wish for the fancy prosecutor. Lang knew best than nobody what it meant to be a wolf without pack.

He stopped the car all at once aside from the road, outside the city.

He really needed wild fresh air. Procedures could fuck off themselves.

He went out of the car, climbed to the car's roof and laid on it. The wind was strong and cold and the sky was clear, showing so many glittering stars. It was quite a view.

It was his beloved Zheng Fa. There was no match for it.

But still he was angry because of the prosecutor, his team worker.

He was starting to feel the cub as a member of his pack. Or at least, his former pack.

During a year, he got used to the prosecutor and his weirdness. He could understand in few months what he could never have grasped by reading the pile of cold files related to that fancy boy.

Those files said nothing about the relentless behaviour of the man, or that logic that many times had overwhelmed him, putting him in the hard situation of concealing a sudden admiration, or even that strange attitude to turn melancholic when talking about his old man.

And Lang was not even counting that extremely happy dog, which was saying a lot from the fancy boy too. He was also aware about Edgeworth's habit of speaking with his dog, despite never doing it in front of him. But he just knew it. It was clear in the way Pesu was used to listen to people.

Those files said nothing about the many restless nights that man spent by reading cases and cases, forcing his memory and his deductions beyond the limit. Every time that Lang visited him in his apartment, he mostly found him reading, with deep dark circles under his eyes, and more wrinkles in the frown.

Those files did not mention how cruel that man was with his own eyes. He could not overlook how frequently Edgeworth started to squint and rub them every time he needed to look far away, or to keep reading for a long time.

Really, those files knew nothing about the smarty-pants.

It was a matter of time for Lang to get curious about the prosecutor. It was a clear fact that Edgeworth was not exactly his subordinate, but the feeling of being one of his men was there. Or maybe it had been the loss of one of them, that made Lang sentimental, so much that he started to look at him as one of them?.

Nah, the feeling had been there a long time ago.

Certainly, it took him time to accept he was looking at Edgeworth as one of his men. After all, that man was a prosecutor. Those nasty people.

But when Lang made peace with that fact, he tried his best to show him that he was part of his own pack: his birthday gift, sharing some national festivities of Zheng Fa, invitations to places to just chill out. They were clear hints, nobody could say otherwise.

But Edgeworth was unreachable.

His professionalism -and he could not believe what his own train of thought was going to conclude- was annoying sometimes. What almost all prosecutors lacked, and that was why Lang hated them all so much, was precisely the reason that made Edgeworth impossible to approach. It was that professional prosecutor mask that the fancy boy never put aside.

It was good while they were working, but he never could see beyond the cool, smug and rational side of that man. It was frustrating, Lang was not going to deny it either. He wanted to know more about that man, as much as he knew about each of his men. Or maybe more.

Lang could suspect the reason behind many of Edgeworth's weird habits, like those related to avoiding elevators or small closed rooms. Or even getting mind-lost every time he saw flowers with a fresh scent; but what frustrated him the most, was the extreme focus on the case. It was not like Lang was doing his job in an irresponsible way. But Interpol officers, even those who were temporary, were allowed to relax and enjoy their free time. However, the prosecutor only used that time to walk with the dog and just lock himself in his apartment afterwards, working and reading even harder than during the week.

Lang sighed, and sat up. The car roof made a metallic sound. He looked at the horizon, where part of the city was mixed with the far away sea and the clean sky.

He yawned.

In the last weeks, they kept arguing almost every day, for the most little things. They were so tired of such an amount of new cases related to faceless corpses. All their hard work was useless. And the frustration was pushing them to their maximal stress peaks.

He bit deeper the piece in his mouth.

He was missing his men. And _her_.

He never allowed nobody to see that side of himself. It was not a matter of pride. It was because alphas had to be tough, as they were the central pillar of the pack. But maybe now, considering there was not a pack at all... maybe he was fine with just sitting there, looking at the sky like a wounded wolf, tasting the remnants of poison in his betrayed lips.

The sound of his personal mobile interrupted his loneliness. By looking at the incoming number, he smirked, taking the call immediately. It was one of his former men.

"Hey, number one, how are you doing in your new job?. Congratulations on your marriage, I told your cousin not to let her Grandfather smoke at the party, there are a lot of children that were invited-" Lang said, laying again on the roof, looking at the stars above. He listened the shy grateful voice on the other side, but then, something froze him.

"W-What?. Thank... thank you... f-for the information." he barely said. His voice was cracked. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just... a surprise. I visited her in prison last week. She told me she was waiting for her trial..." he stopped, and cleared his throat. "So... she didn't lie to me again?. Tch."

Lang was smashing the piece in his mouth, unable to do anything to restrain his growing wrath. "-so... they... did that?. This... this morning?. Thank you for letting me know. You are a good man." he finished the call with a whisper.

Still holding the mobile, Lang covered his eyes with an arm.

And only then, in the silence of the night, with the cold moon over his head, he allowed himself to just let the ire took control of his body, and cried.


	10. Chapter 10

Saturday. Eight hours, twenty-four minutes and forty-nine seconds.

That was the time he awoke, with his face laying on several files over the desk, in the Zheng Fa prosecutor's offices.

During the whole night he had been walking aimlessly through the streets, and by noon he had ended in front of the building. He had his hands in his pockets, squeezing the forbidden mobile, wearing the special gabardine, thinking of unnecessary things. He did need to saturate his mind with useful information, and force all his energy to change into a productive work flow. He thought that learning about the crime history of the country could be not only a demanding task, but also a useful one. Perhaps some interesting facts could be the key to the case they were facing. Or maybe not. It did not matter. He only needed to stop his mind and avoid doing things that he would regret afterwards.

He asked for access to the oldest files in the prosecutors' archive and brought them all into his office; that small and grey room with a complete lack of style. He was disappointed by it because its decoration consisted in, basically, dark curtains, old brown furniture made of pine and darkened over time, and the walls had several flags hung in them with _phoenixes._ He would have never thought how deep annoyance he could develop for a flag.

He read the files for several minutes until he finally fell asleep. It was expected, considering that all he had slept in almost forty hours were only two, filled with nightmares.

A knock on the door forced him to awake all at once. He sat upright in his chair, and rubbed his face with both hands. They felt so hard and coarse due to that dry, bloody cold.

"Come in." His voice was hoarse.

A woman in black stood aside from the door, and looked at him with stony eyes. "Prosecutor Manfred Wolff. I was informed you took some archives."

"I did. I'm actually-"  
"I do not need explanations. You need special permission from the Chief to read those." She interrupted his words, and walked into the room, grabbing all the files spread on the desk in quite an aggressive way. Surprised, almost offended, Edgeworth leant back against the seat and looked at woman's face. She was wearing a citric perfume, but it did not smooth his mood in the slightest way.

"I was not informed about that when I requested the files..."

"I know. The new archivist is a good-for-nothing, like so many others in this building."

She put all the folders into the box and went out without a formal farewell. When she slammed the door, he sighed and stretched his neck.

Almost everyone at the prosecutor's offices were mad with the new and unexpected amount of foreign prosecutors from all around the world that had entered. Under the excuse they were required for teaching how to clean the corrupted Zheng Fa system, and get a better understanding in matters of Laws and court procedure, they were incorporated by replacing many old and prestigious native prosecutors.

Obviously, and despite the natural corruption of the country, it was a cover-up operation in order to explain the strange amount of new personal that had entered into the country due to the Interpol's request.

However, nobody knew about it at the prosecutor's offices. Thus, the new workers were forced to be seen as thieves of the sacred job of many others, and also were told not to report any kind of abuse from the remaining workers. Everything had to be accepted in the name of the camouflage.

Every time he thought about that fact, he could not avoid drawing a tender smile on his face, remembering that witty girl who, like the others, was left behind when he resigned to his name. The Yatagarasu was far from being unrequired in this world.

He was starting to feel a weird sensation in his belly. Although he hadn't eaten in the whole day, he was not hungry. He looked at his wristwatch and stood up from the desk, rubbing his eyes; then he stretched his neck, making a strong hollow sound. He should get a proper rest this time.

He took the gabardine and touched the mobile slyly, quite uneasy for having that phone on him. When he had fallen asleep, somebody could have checked it freely. It was like a mud spot, staining the cloth of his fake identity.

Hoping that feeling would disappear as soon as he left the phone inside his closet, he took the gabardine, ready to leave and get done with his day.

The key, his briefcase and a locked office door. It was everything he needed at that moment, late enough for any productive task. He could try to recover the lost time at his home, working the whole night. Probably, his sleep time was already shifted, and it would remain like so for a while.

He left the public building and walked to the park. The nights were splendid in that country, he could not deny it. From time to time, the chill breeze was interrupted by a random strong gust. which disappeared as fast as it came. The wind used to stop the peaceful walking of the pedestrians, overwhelmed by such amount of energy around them. Then, the chill breeze returned, moving his hair in a fake caress over his cheeks. He always loved that secret sensation. Another one.

He was passing by along the shops, until one of them caught his attention completely. It was called _The nose_. He stopped before the poster, and turned his face to the shop window. It was a book-store.

He stood there, examining each book which was shown on it. He had already read all those books; they were classics. Then, one of them made him swallow.

_In a Grove_.

He had to give that old book to the Interpol, because all the book's margins had many personal notes written by his father. The book was a bit complex for a kid, but his father had added several explanations to make it easy. The many faces that every fact had, the never solved case, and the dead man... summoned from his peaceful rest to give another version of the facts. A lie, yet the truth.

That book was so related to his own fate that it was ironic.

He entered into the shop and bought it. It was a luxury edition, with hard cover, and smooth beige sheets, with a golden ribbon as a bookmark. It would not have the most valuable feature inside, his father's handwriting, but at least he would be able to read the story once again, after a bad night.

Coming back to the street, he walked mind-lost, with a hand in a pocket squeezing the mobile as if it could disappear at any moment; and the other holding the briefcase, protecting the recently bought treasure in there. Despite the storm of memories that he was dealing with in his silent walk, he was enjoying the night by looking to the moon at his front, appearing for a moment, just to disappear again through the buildings.

He was almost in peace. In his usual, personal and paradoxical peace.

When he was almost in front of his apartment's door, he spotted the well-known dark figure leant against the wall: hands in pockets, wearing sunglasses, and his former red king in his mouth.

He sighed, because he knew he was not prepared to deal with the wild man. And that dirty piece was _still_ in his mouth. _So disgusting_.

The last week their usual team work had been affected by the accumulated stress over those months. The case of the faceless people was leading nowhere.

"So, you finally showed up." Edgeworth glanced at him for a moment, silent. Then he started to look for the keys inside the briefcase, close to the door. He missed that electronic system that his former home had. "...Look, I know we weren't easy on each other these past weeks. The last argument was... uhm-" Lang took off his sunglasses and put them into an inner pocket of his jacket, trying to find a proper word.

"You do not need to apologize, if that's what you are attempting to do. I know my work should be giving more results by now. In fact, it should be giving _some_ result. But yet..." his voice was tinged with frustration.

"I know, I get it. That's why I think we need to chill out." Lang said, smirking as usual. "There is a good place for that. It's been related to my family since... well, maybe the same Lang Zi's ages..." Edgeworth stopped his movements and looked at the agent, curious "...this would be a good start to understand a bit more about the Lang family, got it?. Weren't you interested in the real identity of them?" the agent chewed the piece a bit more. "...isn't that enough to satisfy your curiosity?". Lang took the red king and put it back into his pocket, but his grin never disappeared.

Edgeworth was not sure whether those words were reliable or a mockery. He was tired of being the fool with that man. He closed his briefcase and pressed the bridge of his nose. "What kind of joke is this now?"

"Joke?. Mr. Prosecutor, you got me all wrong."

Edgeworth could hardly believe it by looking at the smug smile in the agent's face. But clearly something was off with that wild man, there were no doubts. "Agent... please. Explain yourself."

"Like I said... we need to chill out. Since I've known you, I've never seen you relaxed."

_I am, indeed, but when you are not around, agent._ Edgeworth sighed before putting the idea into softer words, "I can relax myself as I please whenever I take Pesu for a walk".

"Well. I got that. But... c'mon. We both were too tensed those days with the damn case."

"And where is such a relaxing place supposed to be?"

"It's in the underground cir-."

"What!? Are you related to the criminal circles of the city?"

And there they went, straight to the starting point of the arguing.

Lang glowered at the prosecutor, wiping out his grin, "Not so fast. Hold your tongue, my ignorant pretty boy. The cubs must learn to listen to their elders. What you've just said is unfair, and damaging too. Lang family holds a proud heritage, do not dare to think that kind of dirty suspicions." Lang sighed, putting the chess piece back into his mouth. There was no use in keeping it in his pocket. The prosecutor had mastered every single way to make him feel upset. But this time, he tried to control his anger. He had gone there just to make peace with the fancy boy, and relax together. Certainly, he had to recall that twice to himself. "Like I said, it's a good place, known to be in the underground circles of the city."

"Underground?" Edgeworth frowned in disbelief. How, by using that word, would not he bring suspicious thoughts?. It was basic common sense. But as he had learnt during his time working with Lang, there was not always sense in that wild mind.

"Yeah. Only the elder families know about it. It's ancient-" Edgeworth raised an eyebrow when Lang wore his glasses again. "-and it's close from Zhin Lau Shi."

Hit by the sudden emotion, Edgeworth's eyes widened imperceptibly, but still Lang noticed it anyway. _On the spot._ He knew he had won. He turned his face, hands in pockets, and before leaving the other man in front of his home door, he added as if he did not care about it, "Well, I guess there is no use in insisting. So, good night Mr. Prosecutor, I will take my fun..."

"W-Wait... w-wait" Edgeworth's trembling words were a reward themselves.

Lang looked at him over his shoulder and smiled triumphant. _Checkmate_. "Your heart changed?"

"This is not a joke, is it?". Edgeworth was holding back all his self, in order to remain as neutral and cool as always, but his heart was pounding, and his cheeks were quickly coloured.

"A wolf never lies."

"Are... are you sure the place would be enjoyable?"

"Of course. There are some good drinks, and music. You will see Zheng Fa's underground. And _Zhin Lau Shi_." Lang remarked the last place with a hoarse voice, knowing so well what he was doing.

"I-I am not well informed about that, but... there exists the slightest chance that such a place named that way could be where the mighty castle of Zhin Lau Shi was built?."

Lang looked at him for a second, and continued his walk towards the elevator, grinning without saying a word. He was laughing so hard inside.

Edgeworth felt the wild need to stop that man, so he could have time to think properly what to do. His mind was slow due to the lack of sleep in those weeks, but he still could not restrain himself. He could not miss the chance, so he insisted, "W-Wait... Wait!"

"I'll be in the car. Come." Lang said a second before the elevator's doors were closed.

Edgeworth's eyes brightened. He was going to be so close to the mighty castle of Zhin Lau Shi?. That castle was where the special miniseries of the Steel Samurai had been filmed. In that special edition, the Evil Magistrate had associated with the Evil Saifu, to fight against the Samurai, in the Olde Lang Fa.

Childish enthusiasm. That was what he was feeling all along his body, a forgotten sensation he used to enjoy so much despite never being aware of it.

He entered into his apartment just to leave his briefcase and the gabardine on the sofa. He was not going to relish the experience if he had to think about the mobile all the time.

Happy and cheerful as usual, Pesu ran from the bedroom into him, fluttering her tongue and cravat in the air. However, his master was thinking about the castle, the Samurai, the new Season he was not allowed to see yet, completely lost in his thoughts. When she jumped towards him, Edgeworth avoided the encounter without even noticing her.

Pesu flew through the air for a second, and crushed into the closed door. Her trust had been betrayed so deeply. This time there were no hands to pet her, no warm body to run into; only a disgusting old woody door. She whimpered when knocked.

Only in that instant, aware of what had happened, Edgeworth approached her worried and guilty. She was whimpering, making more noises for something that was nothing more than a strong bump. His master stared at her after checking her paws, frowning with a serious look.

"My lady, what have I said before? No drama queen acting." Pesu whimpered even louder, until she looked at his master once again. His icy glare and deadly silence stopped her crying. "I will take some drinks with Agent Lang. Be a good Lady, and do not take this personal... did you understand?." the dog side-eyed her master, opening her mouth slightly in the same way that old meme about a shiba inu used to be. She was offended, and nothing would change that fact, unless such impertinent human would kneel before her, pet her belly, and put all the attention on her during the whole year.

"-did you understand?" Edgeworth repeated, this time in a deeper and commanding tone.

Pesu put her ears down and slowly walked under the table, from where she monitored all his movements along the bedroom and living room.

For a Shiba Inu, that was an extremely bad symptom. He _knew_ it. He was going to regret it when he came back. For that reason, he covered most of the file piles with boxes, in order to save them from the Evil dog that Pesu was going to turn into. When he finally took his coat and looked at her once more time before leaving the apartment, she growled at him without averting his eyes. "My lady, please, restrain your bad mood until my return. Do not make my life a living hell, I beg you."

She just turned in the same spot and gave him her back.

_The Hell had just begun_.

Verily, he would regret it so much for having made a proud Lady as her crush into a filthy door.

* * *

"What took you so long?" Lang said bored for waiting, hand over his chin, looking at the people along the streets.

"Pesu and I had... some differences"

Squinting him, Lang turned his face to him slowly, not sure how to understand it. Was not that man an alpha after all?. Such a disappointment.

However, his thoughts were interrupted when he saw the small camera in Edgeworth's hands. "Are you thinking to take some pictures of the place?"

"Probably there would be no inconvenient in walking around the mighty Zhin Lau Shi."

Lang laughed, so pleased to understand a little more about that man, and his passion about that weird childish program that he had guessed he liked after two years of team work.

He started the car and waited for the eager Edgeworth to fasten his belt. Then he just made the car fly out of any control.


	11. Chapter 11

The night was cold and a gentle and constant breeze was drying their lips and cheeks, but everything had been worthy.

Seeing the clear sky, the glittering starts, and the moon playing hide-and-seek among the buildings were enough to bear such little annoyances. That without counting the delightful sight of the disappointed fancy boy. For Lang, it had been more than worthy.

"... T-This is... the mighty castle... of Zhin Lau Shi?" the profound disillusionment was impossible to hide in Edgeworth's voice.

They were in front of a quite accurate miniature which depicted the Zhin Lau Shi castle. A perfect replica of the mighty structure, whose characteristic architectural features, proper of the Zheng Fa culture, were the main attraction of that park, hidden in the middle of the City.

"Yeah. All people here know this park as Zhin Lau Shi."

"I thought we would visit the real version."

Lang snorted. "A huge castle with several hectares all around it in the middle of the city? And that's called logic. Hah."

"It... well." Edgeworth was ashamed.

He had expected to see the historical castle in its whole magnitude. Despite remembering how extensive was shown in the special miniseries, he never paid enough attention to the fact that an enormous castle, in middle of the city, could not make sense at all. It seemed he had been carried away. His pride as a sensible man had been wounded.

As if the mockery were not enough, he remembered Pesu. He had angered her just for... _this._ It was unacceptable.

"The real Zhin Lau Shi is placed in the south of the country", Lang said adding a bit of more misery into Edgeworth's life.

Arranging the collar of his coat, the prosecutor sighed, falling in his strange melancholic mood.

Probably the fancy boy was thinking too much about... who-knows-what. Lang smirked at him for a while, until the joke got old, and he started to feel guilty. But just a bit.

That childish desire of seeing a castle from a TV show was something that really had stimulated the prosecutor. It had been the first lively emotion that he had seen on the prosecutor since his arrival to the country. Maybe fooling that man to that extent was not wise. Some limits were better to never cross. "Well, don't make that face. If you are a good boy, I'll take you to visit the fancy castle some day."

Edgeworth hardened his face under the patronizing tone; he had forgotten his ward for a brief moment during his short enthusiasm, and now he was paying for it. Putting the small camera in his pocket, he wore his usual cold, frowning mask and kept silent.

"Hey, no hard feelings-" Lang insisted, glancing at the prosecutor for a second, and turned over his heels to walk across the park grass, despite the concrete path decorated with stones, "-the pub is a bit far away."

"So, may I ask, why are we not getting there by car?"

"You'll see", Lang added, and kept walking away.

* * *

Both men walked through the streets in silence. With icy eyes fixated ahead, Edgeworth was a step behind the agent, following him, his mind filled with worries about what could his dearest pet be doing.

On the other hand, Lang was relishing the sky. The moon and stars were unique in his country, indeed.

However, their peaceful walk was interrupted by a strong rumble coming from Edgeworth's stomach. The prosecutor kept his usual neutral face, unable to control the slight blush on his cheeks. He lowered his head a bit, only to hide the reaction by using his fringe, making it fall over his face.

Lang could not help but being delighted by the small gesture. "You didn't grab anything for dinner, did you?"

"I had no lunch either... I believe I lost the track of time."

"Huh. Like always." Lang put his eyes on the sky, avoiding that odd pulse he had just perceived a second ago. "Were you working?"

"Yes. I asked for some historical archives at the prosecutor's department, but... things did not go well."

"Mn. Did you sleep?"

"..." Edgeworth was tired, and his mind numbed, but he was aware enough to understand where things were going if he dared to leak more information.

"You didn't." the agent answered aloud with a triumphant tone in his voice.

"I did."

"Huh?... outside your apartment?. Hey, look at the cub." Lang laughed openly, feeling an abrupt wave of curiosity hitting his guts.

The tired man got his guard down, and he was going to exploit that, in order to satisfy his doubts. He was already tasting it in his fangs: finally, an open gate to look into the prosecutor's animal nature. It was not unexpected, because after all, every human had that wild side. Whether the killing instinct or the savage lust, part of the intrinsic predatory nature was always there, inside people, waiting to break free in, sometimes, the most terrible ways. And the prosecutor's concern was confirming his guess. He could not be more satisfied to rip off those secrets from a man pretending to have icy eyes. _Little cubs are so funny._

However, Edgeworth's worries were far away from what Lang was wondering about. The prosecutor was entirely mortified to be forced to confess that he had wasted the whole day sleeping over his desk. It was unacceptable, from any point of view. "Think what you please, agent. However, I did take care of many useful matters today" he said, hoping to change the main topic of the conversation in a sneaky way.

"Uh-huh?. That sounds interesting. What did you do?" Lang dared him, smirking wider and wider at each word.

"Uhm. Well. I found a book I had been looking for a while now."

"Mn?. Which one?"

"In a Grove."

Lang remembered that book in the prosecutor's briefcase, two years ago. It seemed old enough to assume it had been the boy's favourite book, "You read it?" he said in a casual way, as he was completely unaware of the answer.

"I've just bought it"

"So, you didn't spend the day reading a book" he laughed openly.

"Agent Lang..."

"What?. I'm enjoying seeing how bad of a liar you are"

Offended, Edgeworth frowned. "I'm not lying."

"You sure?"

"And what is that supposed to mean, may I pray?"

"Look at you, little cub, so sure of yourself, thinking you can fool your elders?. Tch-" He was too much pleased with the secrets he had already found by just upsetting the prosecutor. It was a small revenge for the misunderstanding they got into an hour ago. And after all, both men were going to drink and relax. He had enough of their typical arguing every day at work. So he went smooth and cheery on him, just to see the troublesome face Edgeworth was going to make. "-That book was in your briefcase, before coming to Zheng Fa. It seemed you've already read it many times."

Surprised, Edgeworth turned his face and squinted him. "You!. You rummaged in my briefcase without my consent!?"

"Welcome to the wildness."

"Preposterous!" His frown went deeper.

"Like what you enjoy to do, let's change the topic; you didn't spend the day reading, so, why?"

Annoyed enough, Edgeworth only seethed, "Think as you wish."

Lang shook his shoulders in a extremely open laugh, "C'mon, Mr. Prosecutor, go easy on this one."

Edgeworth's stomach rumbled once again, amusing the agent for the rest of the walk.

* * *

Finally, they reached a zone which was known as «the dark town». It was the forgotten and apparently forbidden part of the city. The streets were lightened with several colourful neon posters, in a language that was not Borginian, nor another one that Edgeworth could identify.

Several groups of women and men wearing leather jackets and spiky hair were gathered at the street corners, hands in pockets, and a few of them were holding chains. They were talking to each other until the intruders' presence broke their chat just to scrutinize them thoughtfully. Lang relaxed them by waving his hand in the air, changing the atmosphere in the blink of an eye.

"What language is this?" Edgeworth asked as they were walking in front of a shop that seemed to be a restaurant.

"The old language of this country. It was forgotten by most people. Lang family and its branches have learnt it generation after generation, as guardians of our ancestral traditions."

"Hmph. I could infer, by glancing around, this might be the underground you had told me about before; is it accurate?"

"Yeah. So sharp like usual-" Lang said sarcastically "-but don't let the surface fool you."

Deeper into the town, the lights lost their glamorous touch and were reduced to their most basic function: lightening nameless entrances. Many doors were protected by guards that looked as aggressive and dangerous as those people they found through the streets before. Edgeworth was sure this environment was anything but legal.

They stopped in front of a dark entrance which had a twinkling bulb pending on a side. Its doors had many graffiti on them, and a couple of silent guards with crossed arms were observing them like watchdogs. Lang spoke to them in an unknown tongue, and immediately, they answered with a bow. That was even more suspicious.

The guards looked at the prosecutor from head to toe, scanning him in such a grotesque way. There was no place they did not observe with those piercing and distrusting eyes.

A restrained shiver crossed Edgeworth's back, remembering Manfred for a second. The old man had scrutinized him in that disgusting way the first time he wore his usual red-wine suit and a cravat. Back then, Edgeworth was a nine-year-old kid, and had treasured the dry, yet penetrating phrase of the old man. A phrase he never stopped to recall from time to time while growing up.

"_There is nothing in you which resembles Perfection. You are unworthy of being protected, yet still you are. Never forget it, and do not dare to be ungrateful"._

He glared at the guard, as the guard glared back at him.

"Come in, we are among friends." Lang said and touched Edgeworth's shoulder, breaking the glaring fight.

Behind the dark door there was a spiral stair, leading down into a noisy place. Electric guitars, drum-like rhythms and strident sounds penetrated his brain and resounded into his ribs.

Lang saw the prosecutor when the softy rubbed his temples, pressing his ears in a concealing way while clenching his teeth.

What could he expect, coming from a man who used to listen to Mozart at a ridiculous low volume in his apartment. Knowing the sound inside would be like a hell for the fancy boy's ears, Lang stopped him with a gesture of his hand, asking the prosecutor to await him there.

Doing so, Edgeworth remained in the place, squinting around as he resisted the piercing sounds that were stabbing his mind.

Meanwhile, Lang went straight to a small cubicle made of glass aside from the tables and seats. He spoke with a man who was wearing glasses, nodding several times. It did not take much time for the music to change into a completely different style; a smooth rhythm combined with saxophones at a lower volume. Lounge. The music of human pleasures.

Relieved, Edgeworth's frown smoothed. He could not miss it had been a really nice detail coming from the agent.

The whole atmosphere of the pub changed into a tranquil one, with a calm murmur spreading all over the place.

Lang's hand in the air caught his attention. The agent, smirking as always, was inviting him to come in and approach the table he had just chosen. In doing so, Edgeworth could smell the environment's scent, which was clean and fresh. There were no traces of smoke or ashes, and the only spicy scent he could perceive were those coming from the several bottles of mixed drinks.

They sat in the table placed in a corner of the big room, one in front of the other.

Despite trying to display tranquillity, Edgeworth could not help but feel himself out-of-place. People around looked at him from time to time, and whispered something in the closest person's ear. This was not new for him, of course, but it brought him many unpleasant memories. For that reason, he stared at Lang, observing the man who was unexpectedly happy. In fact, _too happy_ for being him; but it was hard to deny: Lang was almost a fish in the water in such environment. Since they had entered into the pub, Lang had been greeted by every person that crossed his eyes with him.

He was cheerful, lively, full of energy. At some point, the resemblance with Pesu in her most frantic days made Edgeworth chuckle.

But the agent was not that way usually, could it be a façade?.

_Why?_. Edgeworth squinted at him.

"LANG!" a loud call coming from his back frightened him. It had been an old man who was approaching their table, followed by many young men and women. Lang spoke with him in that strange language, until they switched it again, including him into their conversation.

"He is my team worker-" Lang moved his chin towards Edgeworth, without averting the old man's eyes "-we are working hard for Zheng Fa, Uncle."

"Nothing would please me more than knowing your name." the old man added, extending his hand towards Edgeworth. Awkwardly for the unexpected situation, he stood up and bowed before the man, accepting his hand with a polite shake.

"My apologies, I'm Mi- Manfred Wolff" Edgeworth cleared his throat to cover the previous hesitation.

The old man smiled uncomfortable, and glanced at Lang, asking in silence for a clarification. The awkwardness only stopped when Lang chuckled shaking his head.

They spoke a little more in their language and with an elegant movement of his hand, the old man left the place with the rest of people who were behind him. A cold sweat was covering Edgeworth's back. The place fulfilled every Mafia stereotype. There was no logic argument in the world that could change his mind about it.

"What was that?." the prosecutor asked as both of them were sitting again in their seats.

"Nothing to worry about, trust me." Lang smiled relaxed. He looked at the barman, whistled at him by using two fingers in his mouth, and made some gestures with his hands, as if he was explaining something about numbers and drinks.

The whistle, as unexpected as everything in that place so far, made Edgeworth tense all of a sudden, pressing his ears for the second time since he had entered into the bloody lair of mafia wolves.

"You won't believe that this kind of drinks exist in this world, you'll see."

"I am already unable to believe _anything_ I've seen here so far actually exists, agent."

"Like I said, go easy, relax. The music is not good enough? I can ask him for another one if you want-". Lang said, full of enthusiasm and put his fingers in his mouth, almost ready to whistle again.

"Nou! Wait! Wait! The music is quite well.-" he immediately stopped the wild man, concerned for his own ears. "-Just explain to me what had happened with your... Uncle?."

"Don't worry about it. He's an old friend of my family".

"This is the real face of the Lang family?"

"You could say that... but you still know nothing."

"For what I've seen so far... all in here smells dangerous."

Lang laughed openly, shaking his shoulders. Then he slammed the table as he placed an arm over the backrest of his own seat. "Like the wise Lang Zi said: «All men are brothers. And all friends become family.», there is nothing dangerous here."

"Hmph." Edgeworth lowered his face a bit and, by using part of his fringe to cover his eyes full of suspicion, looked around.

The gesture made Lang feel a tickle in his belly, absolutely pleased for what he was reading in that behaviour. The lonely wolf had learnt to defend himself and distrust even the pack that was eager to share its hospitality with him._ Not all cubs are touchy-feely, uh?._

Even with the ambient music, they heard Edgeworth's stomach rumbling again, breaking his mysterious and, at some point, dangerous demeanour.

With a slight blush on his face, Edgeworth crossed his hands and put them on the table, pretending nothing had happened. Lang chuckled, and looked at the bar one more time. Without whistling, he made some movements with his hands and a boy walked towards the table, holding a tray with many snacks on different plates.

"Go ahead. A day without giving a bite, at least once, is a wasted day" Lang said, smirking, but the man at his front put his eyes on the bar, waiting for something to come."What's wrong?"

"There is no cutlery."

Lang could not restrain himself, and once again laughed openly. "What? They're snacks. The smarty cub can't use his paws?"

"We are not animals, there is no need for getting our hands dirty"

A man approached the table again, placing two glasses, several bottles, a pair of jugs and a bowl with ice. He spoke with Lang in that unknown language, and after a look of disbelief towards Edgeworth, he went to the bar, returning later with a fork.

The prosecutor started to eat as Lang mixed drinks in jugs.

Curious, Edgeworth watched him in the process. The main thing that caught his attention were the bottles. They were written in that language, so he could not understand anything in there.

Bored on this restriction, Edgeworth observed the glasses which were made in an interesting curving form, but nothing more. He needed something challenging, something to appreciate from an aesthetic point of view. And that was when he found himself enjoying... Lang's hands.

The left one showed many teeth marks on its back, and a scab with Lang's mouth shape.

Lang had rough hands, with raised veins on their back and prominent knuckles, probably as a result of the many punches he threw over his life. His nails were extremely short and had a saw-like shape. So his teeth were not only damaging his skin.

Unlike _his_ hands, Lang's hands seemed forceful and overpowering, almost wild with those marks. They were not caressing a bracelet, they were shaking bottles, opening the hard sealed ones, breaking ice by using the ice axe.

Then, Edgeworth frowned. "Could I ask you what is it you are doing? This is supposed to be the job of the man behind the bar, is it not?"

"Ah, my pretty ignorant boy. What he prepares is stronger that anything you've tasted in your life. I'm doing the light versions, suitable for fancy prosecutors. I don't want to make you lose your stomach after the first drink."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow as his worries increased all of a sudden.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

When Lang ended the preparations, Edgeworth had just finished eating. Mentally, he thanked for the fork. There was fried fish in the snack that he would have been unable to eat by using his hands. The stink in their fingers would have lasted for days otherwise.

"May I ask you about that man you greeted a moment ago?"

"Uncle?... what about him?" Lang said placing the jugs in the middle of the table and the glasses in front of them.

"You've said he was a friend. For what I know so far, Lang family had lost... many friends when they had that issue with the government."

"Hah. Such a spoilsport you are. Talking about that in a night made for relaxing".

"You brought me here because you were going to speak about it."

"Bah. That naughty attitude of yours..." Lang sighed, and sipped his drink, which was a stronger version than the classic one. "...Uncle and most people you will see here are Lang family's branches. Uncle was related to an ancient merchant family, now so poor and ruined; like mine. That happy man in the corner who controls the music, is the leader of a family that built the first theatre company of this country, in Emperors ages. His family knows everything about any kind of entertainment business... the old and the new entertainment generation."

"Hmph?" Edgeworth raised an eyebrow, glaring at Lang. "New generation? And by that you wouldn't mean... drugs?"

"What?!" Lang almost choked with his drink. "What's wrong with you?. The new entertainment generation is something related to virtual reality and theatre, from what he told me. Stop your damn suspicions, cub. Tsk..." he drank the whole glass all at once. "...I'm in a good mood, don't make me angry, pretty boy; you'll never know how angry I can get when you mess with my family."

"My apologies for the misunderstanding." What more could he say?. He was trained to doubt everyone, everything. Edgeworth remained silent, and sipped his drink, tasting with surprise the different flavour tones and textures it had.

"Tsk." Lang filled his own glass again. "Families with deep duties towards our country, all of them betrayed by those ridiculous courts and its fancy prosecutors. Lang family was the only one who kept its name... the rest of the branches changed their own. I cannot blame them. All the doors were shut after the scandal. They had to quit their proud name and change it... to survive. We are in the wildness, after all, huh?."

"Only your family remained as Lang?"

Lang observed at the prosecutor, smile fading "You could say that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm the last Lang standing. My blood family changed their names too. Lang was the most tainted name from them all-" he stopped and drank the whole glass, drying his lips with the back of the marked hand. He bit that place again, just for a moment, and poured more beverage. "-I was going to recover our honor. Lang was starting to be well known outside the country, with my men's help... and _her_... All was going so fine..." Lang averted Edgeworth's eyes, and sighed or snorted. It was hard to decide.

"And everything fell into the well of chaos because Shi-"

"Shut up. Don't say _her_ name."

Edgeworth was surprised on the reaction, but he could not blame the agent. He could understand very well the pain of an unexpected betrayal. "Very well. You told me earlier this place was ancient. I was expecting... a museum section, to say the least." Edgeworth changed the topic in his usual smooth way.

Having a museum in a place like that was such a bizarre image that made Lang chuckle, recovering part of his previous mood.

He was not going to let _her_ destroy the last thing he had: his pride. "You always so educative... that must be a lawyer-thing, I guess. Like I said earlier, Lang family came from Emperors ages. This was a hotel made for the Imperial court. It was full of the finest entertainment and many fancy things that probably you would have enjoyed. Hah.-" pleased with the story as well as the drinks, Edgeworth finished his glass and filled it again. "-When my family fell from grace, this place was burned. Some branches of the family repaired what they could. The place where art and literature bloomed, had to survive in the underground circles. Only the families related to it know about this place." Lang glared straight into Edgeworth's eyes, who understood the message immediately.

"Do not worry. I won't say a word."

"You bet."

"I believe those times should have been quite difficult"

"They were, and they are. Now my name is dirty again, after the smuggling ring issue. But my family don't care, they are here, with a different name, but they are the same. It is a good pack. As Lang Zi said: «The pack that runs together, stays together.»"

At that time, both men remained in silence until their glasses were empty one more time.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

"So, do you like the drink?" Lang smirked at the prosecutor.

"Indeed. And its low graduation of alcohol pleases me"

Lang snorted without saying a word. He took the jugs and filled both glasses, waiting for the exact moment. "So, you already know about my family, what about yours?"

"Hmph." Edgeworth sipped. "You already know everything about it as well, and the whole case related to it. You read it."

"Yeah, I know the names, the dates and the facts. I would like to know what _you_ think about them."

Edgeworth was going to take another sip, but he stopped midway, and glared at Lang. The agent could not be more satisfied, maybe due to the drinks, or maybe due to that man who was there, looking at him like an alpha, but also, as a lonely wolf, as a mere cub, the fancy boy, the damn prosecutor. How could such amount of paradoxical sides not make a man feel so pleased of observing?. And now that man was also glaring at him, so wild and rebel, but at the same time so naive and young.

"I believe it's not required for me to provide an explicit opinion about facts that made my life a living hell."

"Yeah, I get it. But I was asking about... your mentor."

Edgeworth tensed, hardening his glare even more. "What about him?"

"I've never listened you saying anything about him".

"I... It's not a pleasant topic. I'd prefer to avoid it."

"That's not fair..."

"You did the same right about now"

"Tsk, smarty cub."

But Lang waited two more glasses before recharging. Edgeworth did not know that Zheng Fa's light drinks were potent drinks after all, and the only difference with the strong versions was the time of starting to feel the effects, making them more progressive on a body not accustomed to them. Lang was going to rip off all the secrets from that prosecutor. That was for sure.

"Sis is always remembering her old man..."

"She is his daughter. It seems only natural"

"That man raised you for more than ten years too-" Edgeworth rolled his eyes, and the gesture made Lang completely aware that, finally, alcohol was taking control of the stoic prosecutor. The inhibitions were starting to loosen up, giving him access to his deepest thoughts. The hunt had just begun. "-you don't hesitate to bite the hand that fed you?" Lang knew that those words were dangerous as if he was putting a sparkle in a room filled with gas.

"He killed everything I had. My father, my dreams, myself. He ruined my life. I always remember the man who raised me as rotten as him... Of course I remember him too!," he put a bit stronger the glass on the table, recovering his control afterwards. "I have to remember him more than I would like to, thanks to this stupid name in this country." Edgeworth clenched his teeth. Those things were supposed to be unspoken issues. Or perhaps he could only talk about them with _him_, and nobody else. Perhaps he had drunk enough. Despite the dim alert in his mind, the drinks' taste in his tongue was so delightful. Another glass was not going to make a big difference, after all. So he poured another one, and took a sip before continuing, "As rotten as him, but not worthy enough of perfection..." he sipped "Curse that man. I hate him, every time, every year, every..." he finally restrained himself, and sighed.

"Why did you never say anything?"

"I was just a kid. He was the only person I had, back then. He could not be like a father, but he was the only person who never abandoned me... Until I knew his reasons. I hate him."

"Reasons?"

"His ridiculous revenge against my father by upbringing his son to be as similar as his killer..."

"What a twisted man... Sis knows all about this?"

"Of course."

"Then why she-"

"What she does or feels is none of our concern, nor our right to question her."

"Tsk. I know... now that I think about it, maybe it's natural, she was treated better than you, I guess"

"No. In fact, he was focused on me, on his revenge. She was always... left behind-" Edgeworth drank again. "-Back then, I thought he was just a man incapable of understanding how to deal with kids. Sadly, Franziska was always hurt by his acts, yet she never said a word about it."

"That's why you don't say bad things about his father?"

"Manfred Von Karma is... a complicated topic between us. As for myself... I'd prefer to avoid it. That man does not deserve any more time of my life."

"Huh. I got it... then, let me apologize-" Lang said looking at him serious and concerned. "-I... suggested that name in your fake identity. I thought it would be a good way to annoy you... I'm sorry"

"Hmph. Indeed it is. But now it's quite useless. There is no way to change it without putting unwanted attention on me." Edgeworth sighed and filled the glass. This would be the last one. Or perhaps the last one had been the previous one?. Why was he feeling so forgetful?.

"Family can be a problem as a kid. But... did you ever consider to make one of your own?"

Edgeworth glowered at him, and part of the drink spilled out from the glass. His whole body tensed all of a sudden under the effect of the adrenaline rush that such simple question had produced.

"N-Nou!, that's unacceptable."

"Huh? Why so touchy?"

"A family? That's madness. There are things some people are not meant to be"

"Tch. Do you really think you can't make one?"

"I'm aware of my own limitations, agent" Edgeworth drank half of glass at the instant. The jugs were almost empty.

"Being part of a family is not about limitations, cub.-" _there you go again_, _the lonely spiky wolf, _the agent thought, just before feeling tickles in his belly. "-families are like packs, and they are diverse. You can choose your pack, too...but you can't deny it's part of life, a natural thing; you must accept it. As Lang Zi said «One should always know one's place in life»."

"Well, mine is not being part of a family."

"Why?"

"I do not believe that's any of your concern" Lang could not be more surprised. Both men were starting to feel drunk, but even in that state, that man had a barrier. A barrier under a barrier. It was the first time Lang saw such peculiarity, and so, the cub turned into a more intriguing wolf than before. "And speaking of which... I recall you told me Lang Zi's words were lost... and yet, you are forcing them into our conversation since... well, since I've put a foot in this country." Edgeworth finished off, dryly.

Those words destroyed all the tickles in his belly, all the desire that was growing inside him, and like fire reduced into ashes, his thoughts were invaded by _her_. At that moment, he knew he was already drunk, yet nothing would stop him to keep drinking. He made a movement with his hand towards the barman and asked for more bottles.

"Huh. They are lost-" he continued with a serious face "-the scrolls were destroyed. A few were saved, but most of them are here" he said pointing his temple with his forefinger, hand resembling a gun.

The gesture gave Edgeworth a strong hit in his gut, like a poisoned knife stabbing him deeply, but as usual, he remained immutable, "destroyed?"

"She burned them down."

"Hmph. Such a despicable woman." His words were immediate as it was the thought of Kay in that fateful day of her life.

"Shut up." Lang said, hitting the table with the glass, "You didn't know anything about her past."

"And do you think you do?"

"... I don't know. What I know for sure is that she was going to recover the lost flame of Lang's name. And make larger the Lang's family... She and I..." suddenly, Lang closed his eyes, regretting those words. He swore at himself for being so careless, but in the end he could not blame his mind for what the drinks were doing to both of them. It was the price for uncovering Edgeworth's secrets. Besides, to be fair, he needed to vent it. And by saying it to one of those culprits that gave her the worst was, in some way, a profound relief. Lang sighed deeply, giving up his restraints. "... she was such a wonderful woman. I didn't care about her past. I can't tell apart what was the truth from what were lies, but... whatever it was, it's lost now."

"Was?"

"Yesterday, at night, I got a call. Her defense attorney had appealed time ago, and she was awaiting a resolution. They got it, and that trial's date was set to take place next week. But yesterday morning... they killed her. Without giving her the damn trial."

Only then, Edgeworth understood the whole strange and cheerful attitude that Lang had been showing the whole evening. It had been anything but genuine.

However, the Truth had to be told, despite any sentimentalism. "She was not innocent, agent. She murdered the father of a girl who had no other person in this world but him. She killed several innocent people."

"Innocent?. Hah. I will overlook that... The point is, they allowed her to appeal. They were going to play that ridiculous thing of trials and courts... If they wanted her dead in the first place, why give her the option? Huh?." he lowered his look "They fancy to play with empty hopes..."

"Hmph... I had to accept that's quite an irregularity..."

"I don't care about your fancy words. The irregularity killed her. That's the fact. Now you know about the reason why half of Lang family is dead or erased."

The man behind the bar approached them with new bottles, jugs and ice, taking off the empty ones and left.

Both men kept silent while Lang was preparing new jugs, probably a bit stronger than the former ones. They were already drunk anyway.

"What about your father?" Lang asked, filling the glasses with the same drink for both of them.

"There are many things to talk about him, and none of them is bad."

Lang snorted, and drank in silence. A defense attorney with so many good things?. Not in this world, for sure. But he knew it was pointless to voice his opinion. After all, it was a father's image from his son's point of view. "He was relentless in pursuing the right thing to be done. In a sense, that was what killed him-" Edgeworth sighed. "-defending people was always his priority... same as _him_". Edgeworth frowned, and hid the trip by drinking.

"Uh? Him?"

Edgeworth cursed to himself. How was that half drunk man still sharp enough to get the smallest details?. "I would like to ask you, agent, what had happened to your men."

"Well, you lost the smooth way for changing topics, I see." Lang smirked, but overlooked it again. He was in a tired mood. Bless Zhen Fa's drinks. "-what about them?"

"More than two years had past from that case. Why couldn't you gather them again?. From what I know, all of them would be pleased to follow you"

"I know. But it's not easy, cub. They were reassigned all over the world... strangely."

"Strangely?"

"I know this was not made by chance. They don't want me to recover my pack. Maybe they really gave up on Lang's name..." Lang placed his elbows on the table, folded his fingers, and put his mouth on the back of his left hand. Then, he started biting that place, alternating it with a drink.

"They?, do you mean Interpol?"

"Yeah, I gave them many problems with that fucking case..." Lang bit stronger his hand. Several memories about his men and _her_ were flitting in his mind. He did want to stop them, but... he was feeling those nervous tics all over his body. A muscle contracted on his back, a little pull close to his nape, the slight yet constant movement of his right leg. The drink was not helping either. Those wild red lips, those dangerous eyes, that dominating style apparently hidden on the surface. He was feeling so uneasy. "Hey, Mr. fancy boy. I'm done with that topic, got it?. Let's talk about something more... interesting. Let's talk about... your country."

"Which one?"

"Uh?." Lang squinted at him.

"I spent half of my life in Germany, raised as a German..."

"Oh, I see... Sorry, excuse this man too centred in his own country. To me, it's hard to think I could feel another country as my own besides Zheng Fa..." Lang drank a bit. "I was talking about your birthplace, you said earlier you left things there... I was just wondering-"

"It's not of your concern."

Lang clenched his teeth. Smarty prosecutor. How could that man be so focused despite being drunk?. Lang filled both glasses again. "Oh, c'mon. We came here to drink and talk..."

"We are doing so."

"Those things are related to the book?" Lang shot straight, smirking, looking at Edgeworth's eyes. As if he was too aware of the most jealously hidden secrets of the prosecutor. He was going to obtain his answer, even if both of them were getting smashed.

"What book?" Edgeworth had to force all his will to keep concentrated in the talk. He was feeling so relaxed. Dangerously relaxed.

"The one you '_bought_' today".

"That was my father's favourite book."

Lang lifted his chin and looked at the prosecutor, face squinted. That did not seem a lie after all. How could he stop his wild desire of knowing more and more about the cub?. How was he going to force him to spit every secret out?.

The image was clear. Both men were like wolves walking around each other, looking straight into their eyes, defying the other's territory, growling, thinking when one would tumble, so the other would jump over him and rip the truth off.

"What is it about?" Lang was going to find it. As always, using his own ways.

"The story symbolises the many faces a simple situation can have. The process to understand the truth is not easy nor beautiful."

"Hah, the fancy-court-thing... so prosecutor"

"Very well, agent. Laugh all you wish, but this book had helped me out in my darkest moments. When I was less... respectable, this book and the letters were the only things that made me reflect from time to time-" Edgeworth drank abruptly. He had leaked more information without perceiving it until it was too late. He was so relaxed. Many alerts showed up in his mind.

"I got that. That was written in the files. The demon prosecutor, huh?-" Lang smirked, but he had not perceived the real meaning of the words. For him, everything was related to the dead old man. "-so, those things saved you."

"The letters..." Edgeworth sighed and drank again. He lowered his head a bit, and looked at his glass and his own hands surrounding it. They were there. Those unnecessary feelings again, growing inside, too free to do what they wanted to him now he was so dangerously relaxed. "...he saved me many times..."

Lang was going to drink, but stopped halfway, frowning at the man. Far from his former attitude, the prosecutor seemed now like the little cub resigned to his lonely walk through the hill. Lang tried to think fast, to tie up loosen ends, but the alcohol was there, making the task so complicated._ It was his father's spirit what he was talking about?_. Something was off, he could smell it. "Who?" he continued his movement for drinking.

"Phoe-" abruptly, Edgeworth stopped his word, raised his eyes, and glowered at Lang. "-Why are you so concerned about this topic?" he pretended to be stoic, projecting a scary image of his persona, but he only received the agent's grin. More than a wolf, he looked like a hyena.

"Well, look at you, cub. That man causes this reaction on you... I'm curious, what can I say?"

Edgeworth averted his eyes and drank. He needed more alcohol in his system. To actually stop drinking was the wisest decision, however, he could not do it. Perhaps there was something of self-punishment in it. Whatever it would be, he had decided to drown himself into the sadness and the infinite ocean of feelings _his_ simple memory was invoking, accepting the suffocation of inked words written in old letters.

That, probably, was the meaning of being intoxicated, almost poisoned, rotten. Oh, how many twisted things he was, how many of them would last the morning after, how many would remain in his soul forever?.

He had been the man who had run away into the night. He still was. So coward, and at the same time, unable to perceive what he was scared of.

Bad habits died hard.

When the empty glass rested in the table, he had accepted his defeat, overwhelmed by the silent emotions. For him, there was not any salvation. Only running. And he was tired of it. He had been so tired since... childhood.

Pressing his temples with his fingers, Edgeworth lowered his face just a bit in order to conceal part of his face with his fringe. It was the steel curtain he had learnt to use over time outside the prosecutor's bench. However, and despite the efforts, his body language was crystal clear for Lang.

The little cub was there, laid on the ground, averting the alpha's glare, entirely resigned to his fate. Lang dampened his lips. If he could push a bit longer, the name would come out.

Dry throat, tickles in his belly, predator's pulse, everything was pushing into the charming rhythm beating through his veins.

Lang leant over the table, close to the defeated prosecutor, and hissed, "cub, there are some sorrows that Nature knows how to get numb."

Edgeworth raised his face and looked straight into Lang's eyes, with a slight frown, "drugs?"

Lang snorted shaking his head, then leant a bit more, getting closer, "My ignorant pretty boy... what part of 'Nature' you didn't get?. Nature is wise, you know."

"Umh..." Edgeworth lowered his eyes and observed Lang's hands. Rational thoughts, excuses, sentiments, wishes, none of them appeared in his drunken and slow mind. He needed a clarification for a situation that seemed strange for him, and so he did, in the sneakiest way, "What is that supposed to mean?"

_Yes, that was brilliant_, he added cynically, looking straight into the agent's eyes that were tingeing with a tone of wildness he never saw before.

"We have a lot of alcohol in our bodies... we are totally free, boy. We could use it for some kind of relief."

"Hmph? Are you suggesting what I can barely understand?"

Lang dampened his lips in a slow and predatory way, and smirked. That wild bright in his eyes got intenser, because the idea, not so clear before, not even thought until that moment, seemed so interesting and rude right there. He was needing something to forget _her._ Something completely different, something rough and tamed... well, at least he could give a try to that man in front of him. But he could not deny it was going to be different. A good remedy for his own wounds, and probably for Edgeworth's too.

"I'm waiting for a clarification..." Edgeworth insisted.

"You are a prosecutor and you read body language _that_ bad?". He was a bit disappointed. Had the little wolf put his tail between his legs?.

"What? How is that related to...?"

"Look-" Lang was tired of wasting time. "-we can make us feel a bit better. After all, we are two lonely wolves. We can lick each other's wounds." Lang drank the last glass. "This place has small rooms on the first floor. We can use them to just sleep... or something more. I guess you won't like me driving in this state."

"Indeed."

"So... you agree?"

Edgeworth blinked twice, "Seems fair."

Completely satisfied of his own ability to tame another wolf, Lang smirked. He looked at the barman once again, and gestured at him with his hands. Then, he stood up, and tottered a bit. Zheng Fa's drinks turned stronger over time. Supporting his balance on the table, he shook violently his head. He was accustomed to being smashed sometimes, thanks to long nights of celebrations with his former men after a successful investigation.

Trying to follow him, Edgeworth also stood up, but he would have fallen into the ground if it weren't for Lang's quick grasp. Thanking the gesture, Edgeworth tried to walk a bit, but he kept in the same place, feeling the world turning around.

"Don't worry, pretty boy. It's normal. You are feeling dizzier than what you'd feel with any other drink you will taste in your life. That's the charm of Zheng Fa's drinks."

"Are you sure they do not contain drugs?"

Lang laughed openly, taking Edgeworth's arm and putting it around his neck, helping the prosecutor to reach the first floor. After walking through a long corridor, and many stairs that were hard to climb for both of them, they reached a door.

Lang opened it, and let Edgeworth step in first.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

The prosecutor felt a bit better when the scent of lavender reached his nostrils. The room, dark and quieter in comparison with the ground floor, was almost Heaven for his confused mind. It was like his drowsiness had decreased quickly, recovering control over his thoughts. Or that was what he believed. Such a fool.

The first thing he noted in the new environment was the lack of any windows, and therefore, of curtains. A room without curtains was almost a sin.

There was no more furniture but two little bedside tables and the bed, and there was a door close to them that probably would lead to the bathroom.

_This is so disgusting._

The room was simple, and so lacking of style, same as his own office.

_Why does this country hate inner decoration so much?. Shameless_.

His thoughts about curtains stopped when he felt hands slipping through his waist and Lang's face rubbing his nape.

They were going to lick each other's wounds, like old wolves. Something was objectionable in such statement that was still flitting in his mind, but he could not process it. Perhaps after all, his thinking skills were completely drowned after such an amount of drinks.

He looked down, observing those fingers that had started to unbutton his waistcoat. They were so different from _his_.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

_Licking wounds_.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

Having tamed the lonely wolf, it had been enough for Lang to set free his hunting inner animal. Awakening from his drunken lethargy of memories, devoured by his growing appetite, he dampened his lips, tasting the incoming enjoyment.

He buried his face into Edgeworth's hair, and its shampoo perfume made him stop. Could it be the same damn smell than _hers_?.

Annoyed by it, he lowered his face and licked the prosecutor's neck. But it was worse. He wrinkled his nose, drawing back immediately. "What the hell is this?" he had lost part of his wild desire with such cherry-like stink.

"Hmph?" Edgeworth blinked.

Lang frowned a bit more. _The pretty boy was not paying attention?_. "The stench..." he added.

"It's a German perfume."

"How can you wear that thing, you smell like a candy." Lang walked in front of the prosecutor and faced him, chin lifted, observing each part of his silhouette. He was a bit disappointed on that childish smell, and on being fooled by it. From that distance, it was a completely different smell, more like rustic trees. He smirked; fancy things that only a person like the pretty boy could use.

"It is not candy-like smell. It has several tones of wood scents combined with citrus remnants and-"

Edgeworth's words were interrupted by a rough kiss. A determined hand had slipped behind his head, grabbing his hair a bit brusque for his own taste, as Lang forced the approach, devouring his mouth.

The gesture had nothing to do with smoothness and quietness, or a blooming, shy sentiment increasing over time. It was wildness. Certainly it fitted Lang's style after all.

Edgeworth tried to contribute to the action somehow, and moved his lips. It was all that Lang needed to attack him with his tongue. A deep kiss, full of hunger and lust, pressing each other's bodies, nailing his fingers into the fabric and the hair.

Unsure what to do with his own hands, Edgeworth lifted them in the air. But it took him a while to place them on Lang's back. For some ridiculous, and why not, naïve reason, he wanted to ask permission for such invasion of personal space; but the stupid idea disappeared in a second, when he realised he was starting to think weirdly.

Weird for usual parameters.

Weird for a natural worthy human.

He could not avoid the small uneasy sensation inside him, something so old like himself, something he decided to forget when he was a teenager. Probably, he had to think about this a bit more before going ahead. And talk to Lang. And explain to each other...

"What's happening?-" Lang broke the kiss and observed him with concern, still grabbing his hair in such tough way. "-we can stop if you..."

"It's not necessary. I-I was... thinking." Edgeworth averted Lang's eyes, and cleaned his lips with the back of his hand, placing his arms aside his own body again.

"Huh? Thinking?. This is not the time for that."

Lang took his jacket off, and did the same with Edgeworth's, finishing to unbutton his black waistcoat.

While doing so, the prosecutor took advantage of the situation and scrutinized the agent closer. That man was eager, smirking and tasting the experience in anticipation. Those wild eyes fixated on his chest, the smirk dampened by that red tongue, that fear under the pressure of being devoured by the other man's presence. Everything was strange, but at the same time, intriguing.

_Is this Nature itself?._

It was supposed to be something that everyone does from time to time. It was the form to let problems away, to relax, to find meaning in the flesh, to enjoy while sharing. He had read so many things about that kind of experiences and its meaning.

_«The expense of spirit in a waste of shame  
Is lust in action; and till action, lust  
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,  
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,  
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,  
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had  
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait  
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;  
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;  
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;  
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;  
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.  
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well  
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. »*_

It was natural, it was desired by everyone, it was needed.

However, it looked so pointless for him...

Perhaps his isolated teens did not help him to develop such "natural" part. Perhaps Nature had forgotten him, after all. He tried to focus in the sensations, but nothing was working.

_Is this Nature itself?._

Predator and prey. A twisted game.

So many years working together and yet, they could find another way to dare each other. Such strange relationship he had with the agent. Complex, explosive, unpredictable. And so, they reached to that point. Sharing the incoming result did not seem a big deal, however, what was the point?.

He always lacked of those kinds of needs. They always seemed so unnecessary... like _those_ feelings.

For a second, _his _image appeared in his mind.

"Stop thinking, _Miles_" a husky voice close to his ear surprised him.

Then, he realised his waistcoat was on the floor, and the man in front of him was pushing him towards the bed.

Lang's presence was intimidating. Edgeworth only could obey the silent orders that man was giving him with his body and smirk. After all, he was a cub pretending to be a wolf, walking in that man's territory.

"Stop thinking. Let Nature flow..." the man repeated.

Edgeworth bit his lower lip, and raised an eyebrow.

_Letting it flow..._

That was the problem. He was sure. Nature had forgotten what he needed to just let it flow.

He had read so many things about lust. The whole classic literature was made of it. A desperate need demanding satisfaction, breaking any control over oneself; emotions so deeply unrelated to him.

It was true; he was not feeling them, he was thinking about them, and recalling everything related to them:

That old book of Freudian sexuality hidden in the big library of the Von Karma residence that both of them, Franziska and he, had read.

Those endless web pages describing positions, wild feelings and uncontrollable pleasures, showing a collection of disgusting videos that, for him, were no different than any other mating animal documentary.

And it was expected from him to enjoy that sweaty friction, that amount of disgusting body fluids over his skin, the tough and violent invasion of his own personal space and body.

_Disgusting_.

There was no better word to describe his opinion.

_How to enjoy disgusting things?_

"Stop thinking, pretty boy-" Lang pressed Edgeworth's chest to lead him over the bed, sitting astride on his hips. Once again, Lang dampened his lips, and started to undo the cravat. "-I'm gonna wipe all that stench."

Gathering strength, and once Edgeworth's neck was finally nude, Lang leant over him, licking it, opening more and more his shirt.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

Edgeworth could not help but perceive the whole situation like those with Pesu, after a long day of work, resting in his bed. The little dog used to approach him and lick his neck and cheeks, and sometimes even bite his nose softly.

Then, the main topic in his mind was Pesu. And the worry caught his soul. What kind of revenge that little monster would have done to punish the terrible man that let her crash into that door. Damn those Shiba Inu.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

"Are you here?-" Lang was feeling a bit strange as well. Something was not right. He had already used many pleasurable tricks and that man under him had not moaned, or sighed... or something. He felt himself uneasy... had he lost his touch?. "-What's wrong? Are you worried about something? Be honest. Like I said before... we can stop."

"My apologies... I-I was thinking of Pesu." Edgeworth said completely honest, but Lang's reaction made him frown.

The agent stared at him with a twisted smile in his face. "Well. That... that was unexpected. But if you enjoy it more with her instead of with a human... well"

"W-W-W-What!? What on Earth are you suggesting?! That's an utterly disgusting thought" Edgeworth said loudly, close to have a heart attack.

"Well, what can I say?. You have a man over you and you are thinking of your pet. Where is your fancy logic, my smarty prosecutor?"

"Nghoh. It has nothing to do with it. I would like to explain it to you: Pesu is fond of licking my neck, that's why-"

"I feel for her, licking you with that stench all over your neck..."

"Agent..." his words stopped midway. There was something so intimidating in the way the other man was seated on his hips, making him unable to move his legs, looking down at him, showing his canines in that grin. So mighty.

Lang chuckled, and held Edgeworth's hands, caressing them for a moment, just to put them on his own thighs. Then, he leant over his prey, arms placed both sides of the prosecutor. It was the alpha breathing over the defeated cub.

"Have you ever done it before?-" he hissed. Edgeworth swallowed and tensed his hands, small gesture that Lang perceived on his thighs. Then, he smirked, triumphant, daring. "-It's okay, I'll be nice, you'll like it..."

The smallness that Edgeworth felt when Lang kissed him again, feeling another body on him, made him tremble. It was like an accomplished desire, the end of the curiosity, but at the same time, the revolting taste of the usability.

And beyond the mixed feelings, there was, at some point, a resemblance with Pesu.

_The weight and warmth from another creature._

The kiss was the new thing. The usable thing. The detail that had to provide him the rest of the sensations.

Trying to focus, Edgeworth closed his eyes and moved his lips awkwardly. Encouraged, Lang's canines caressed his lips as the eager man lifted his shirt touching his skin. He could not help but frown under the roughness of those fingers. They needed some kind of lotion to make them softer, and probably, more enjoyable.

Then, that image appeared again, familiar fingers caressing a bracelet. Would _his_ hands be the same as the agent's?. He groaned.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

It was all that Lang needed to deepen the kiss, turning it into a suffocating predation, as he kept unbuttoning the prosecutor's shirt.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

However, Edgeworth was far away, intoxicated by the reminiscence of the secret path he had followed with his eyes, from _that_ hand holding the bracelet, along the arm to the shoulder, until reaching the face. And then, his incantation turned even more defined, fixated in _that_ face smiling at him sheepishly. He moaned into the kiss, and his fingers nailed the thighs.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

This time, Lang grinned full of confidence. That was the kind of reaction he was expecting before starting the aggressive hunt. He had slipped a hand under the prosecutor's side, tracing the ribs with his palm, rubbing, pressing, twitching. Probably he was hitting the right points there.

Lang broke the kiss and looked at the pretty boy, whose eyes were closed, and was deepening his frown more and more. Such a weirdo the smarty-pants resulted to be. It seemed that frowning was part of him in every aspect of his life.

Focused again in the neck, he sought any possible reaction for speeding up the situation. The small variations in the heavy breath were important, but not enough. He wanted that man loosened up, relaxed, wild, before setting free his looming inner animal.

Instead of the prey begging to finish his suffering, this time had been the predator, asking to reach the point into the climbing race towards the pleasurable end. There was not enough naked skin yet.

He kissed the prosecutor's jaw, enjoying the clear difference in comparison with _hers. _

Everything was so different. The breath, the size, the movements.

It was so frustrating that man was not _her_, that never in his life he would touch her skin again. It was so unfair, so deeply damaging.

The tension betrayed his mind, and without understand how, he sank his fangs into the fake replacement's neck he was licking, deep and roughly. He could not stop it.

_Unique, forever. _

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

Edgeworth screamed and pushed him away. He lifted a bit from the bed, but was strongly restrained by the other man who kept seated astride on him. "What on Earth has happened with you, Agent Lang?" Edgeworth shouted at him, rubbing the zone, feeling blood coming out from the bite dampening his fingers.

For a second, Lang was frozen, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Let me take care of it, please."

The humble tone in his voice, as if it were an apology, made Edgeworth trust him enough to allow him to approach his neck again, feeling the submissive wet tongue on the wound.

_This could not be more disgusting. _

Then, a hand reached his nape and rested there, caressing while the other hand pushed him gently towards the bed.

"Let me ask for your forgiveness..." Lang whispered, but it was so low that it seemed to be said for another person. The tongue stopped licking the wound, and turned into a strong kiss all over the neck, marking a path. "...forgive me, dear..."

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

Edgeworth frowned even more. Uneasy, so deeply uneasy. But that was _Nature._ That was how things should work.

He let a sigh out, knowing the other man would misunderstand it, and closed his eyes, trying to focus in something that could help him to relax, to feel less odd. The beating pain in his neck was making things harder, and that without counting the tension he was dealing with since Lang had slipped a hand into his pants, grabbing his hipbone in such invasive way.

_Enjoy, you must enjoy. _

_«[..]All this the world well knows; yet none knows well  
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.» _Edgeworth kept repeating to himself many sonnets more.

He needed to loosen up.

The train of thoughts started to work again, leading him to the only way he could relax: _logic._

The sonnets were talking about Heaven. An intoxicating heaven.

Many baroque paintings appeared in his mind, and among them Caravaggio's, depicting many sides of Heaven and also Hell. Places controlled by Gods.

However, from the list of images running through his mind, only one was highlighted: _The sick Bacchus_*.

The God fond of drowning people into the faint sensation of happiness by providing them wine, erasing any restrictions. The _freedom_ of the famous Bacchanalia; the pleasure of the body at its finest.

But only remembering how many atrocities used to happen at those orgies, in ancient Rome, forced him to change the train of thoughts. That was not the step to take into the right direction towards _relaxation_. He had enough of wickedness in his work.

However, the paintings were still there, in his mind, reconstructing their beauty and relating one to another, into a chain of logic that only he could understand. In doing so, he could not overlook the resemblance of Bacchus with Cupid, in a painting where that god, with black wings, was laughing victorious* as stepping on the symbols of humanity's endeavours: science, laws, arts, everything .

It was so full of nonsense and at the same time so challenging. The picture had something familiar, so defying, something like... _him_.

The paintings, the museums, the files related to cruel cases; everything scattered around his mind, and the sole image of _him_, at his front, in a table of a noisy coffee shop, holding a bracelet, was all that remained. _Those_ hands that, for an instant, he felt on his chest and hip. He groaned.

More images of _him_ showed up, starting the deadly process of paradoxical nonsense: Those moments at trials, when _he_ was there, standing up with that fake pose of certainty, looking at him, daring him. That sheepishly smile, scratching his nape when his bluff had not worked. That bright in _his_ eyes every time _he_ found the truth beyond the limits of logic.

_Wright, Wright, Wright._

His hands lifted again, this time to rest on Lang's back, pulling him closer.

Unexpected as it might be, he had found a way to relax while the situation advanced to its _natural_ flow.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

The reaction was welcomed by the agent, who taking advantage of the given forgiveness, placed a leg among the prosecutor's, increasing the pressure still trapped in his trousers, kissing his neck, biting it softly, exploring every point in his chest. Soon, he would let his wildness out, preying on everything at its path.

_***double space [Go AO3 for a better format]***_

Lost in memories, Edgeworth was unable to stop.

Relaxing was the priority, so he kept setting free more fragments of small details that he was not aware how worthy they were, until that time:

_His_ surprised, yet bitter silence when he faced him once again after that long absence, after the note, after his almost deadly mistake. _Those_ warm brown eyes and _his _concern when the earthquake hit at Hazakura. _That_ voice making fun of him.

Something inside his chest made him writhe, cut off his breath, and forced him to shiver under _that_ man, embracing him.

"_Phoenix_..." he whispered in a deep tone he did not know he could make.

Freezing his movements, Lang let a sigh out. That had been the first and last clue to tie up the loose ends all at once.

He lifted, but remained seated astride on Edgeworth's hips, looking down at him, serious.

Trying to cover up the burning in his cheeks, Edgeworth concealed his face with his crossed arms, exposing all his bare chest through the open shirt.

"M-M-My apologies... I-I...didn't, I mean... I-"

"Look, relax. It's okay. This is what I've told you before, we are licking our wounds. If you want to do this thinking of another person, it's okay. I'm fine with that, believe me. I'm doing this because I fancy you. And to be fair, you are way different of what I got used to; and I like it, of course. But I'm not going to do this if you are forcing yourself. Got it?"

"M-My apologies... I believe-" Edgeworth recovered part of his breath, still with some childhood memories of _him_ crossing his mind that compressed his voice "I-I should go... I'm really sorry, agent Lang, I didn't mean..."

"No hard feelings. It's okay. Go easy on yourself." Lang sighed slowly, and lifted his whole body from the cub, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Annoyance, frustration, grumpiness. So many irritating feelings were running all over his body, tensing him more and more. He had been almost sure that he was going to taste that flesh.

Only disappointment. But he was not the only one tortured there. By looking at the fancy boy, still in the bed covering his face, he got enough info to understand that he was not the only one disappointed.

Lang rotated his head, and inhaled deeply. So, that had been what the smarty-pants had on his mind all along?.

He chuckled at himself, knowing that both of them had reached the highest point of alcohol in their blood. Losing control on one's own mind was a funny thing to experience from time to time, though. And probably, it was the first time that the pretty boy had lost it.

_Damn prosecutors. _

"Fancy boy. What's wrong? Are you feeling bad?, beyond the drunk thing, I mean."

Edgeworth uncovered his face, redder than before, and looked at the agent. "My deep apologies... This. I-"

"It's okay, like I said. Get over it. But who is Foenix?" He finished it off. Neither his mood nor his mind were good enough for beating the brushes.

"I think I need to go." Edgeworth stood up, and tripped over the bed.

Amused, Lang laughed at him without helping him. After all, something in his alpha pride had been hurt, and the cub should be punished for it.

Those damn prosecutors, always so problematic.

"Miles, let's sleep, we are not thinking straight. Just sleep, we can leave tomorrow."

Lang laid on a side of the bed and fell asleep quickly.

But Edgeworth was incapable of such a task. He was tortured by _his _memories_,_ and surprised by the effects they had on him and where they had lead him to.

_Unnecessary, useless whisper. _

Forcing himself to focus beyond his limits one more time, Edgeworth stood up again, took all his clothes scattered around, and wore his coat.

Immediately, he left the room, too ashamed to sleep there, knowing what he had done to Lang and to his own self.

The wisest decision he could have taken was locking himself up at his apartment during a whole year.

******Notes******

*The fragment is sonnet 129 from Shakespeare.

*The painting described in the chapter are these, if you are curious.

[Links in AO3, because fanfiction is an asshole]


	12. Comments

Due to difficulties I always have for publishing my fic, and make it look like in the same way I wrote it, respecting spaces and so on; I will keep publishing this fic ***only*** in AO3, under the same name. I'm tired of the restrictions fanfiction has with double space, and its format issues.

Hope you could keep reading there.

archiveofourown(point)org/works/2087703?view_full_work=true


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